


Fulcrum's Zero Hour

by doodly_squat



Series: The Heart of a Rebel [1]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-12 01:04:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodly_squat/pseuds/doodly_squat
Summary: Follows Kallus during Zero Hour and the trials and tribulations he faces upon entering the Rebel life.





	1. Chapter 1

Even in the dark, Kallus could see how the breeze played across the grass, giving the illusion that the gentle rolling hills were shivering in the night. That only made his late night ride all that more ominous, but he had no choice. Thrawn knew about the attack. Without this warning, the Rebels would face certain doom.

Arriving at the tower, Kallus was quick to make his way inside. This visit there was no time to analyze the abode, piece together the years of the boy’s life. At one point, that would have been a game, but as time went on, as he wore his role of Fulcrum longer, he found analyzing young Ezra’s life was starting to stir too many uncomfortable feelings. The most prevalent of which was guilt. 

There was no time for such thought now. He turned on the transmitter, made sure he was dialed in and broadcasting properly, and prepared to start recording his message. The system was set to record a thirty second message and play it on a loop. It would stop after the 300th cycle. That would, hopefully, be long enough to catch the Rebels’ attention.

The transmitter was was old, especially compared to what the Empire had in use, but it had proven effective in the past. 

“This is Fulcrum with an urgent message. Thrawn knows about…”

Static and then the transmitter’s hologram flickered from white to red. Kallus looked to the dials. Everything was in order, but the recording had…paused? No, it something more than that. It was being jammed. 

“By the light of Lothal’s moon.” 

That low, sure voice chilled him, assured him that his trepidation was correct. He’d been discovered. There would be no going back, not that he had any desire to, but, now, he was surely at his end.

Kallus turned to face Thrawn. Standing tall, seeming looming above the seated Kallus, Thrawn wore his usual stone-faced visage.

“That is your code phrase, isn’t it, Agent Kallus?” Thrawn asked, no hint of emotion in his tone. “Or would you prefer I address you as Fulcrum?”

Kallus had already made the calculations. He knew that he was no match for Thrawn. Alone, unarmed, he had no chance. He knew this day would come but… _karabast._ Not now. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t done with his work as Fulcrum. He needed…

“I’m afraid your Rebel friends won’t be getting your transmission.” Thrawn’s voice was even, calm, as he held up the device he’d used to jam the transmission. 

Kallus knew he had to fight. _Blast the odds!_ He had nothing left to lose. Soon enough, he’d be put to death. Injuries now were a minor trifle. There was little left he could do, little choice he had left in this life, but he could fight, and, while he surely wasn’t going to beat Thrawn, he could still try and get his message through. It wouldn’t be much, but it would tip the Rebels off. He hoped.

Kallus sprang up, coming at Thrawn with a sweeping kick with his left leg. He could feel the clumsiness in the move, and he wasn’t surprised when Thrawn easily blocked it. Already he miscalculated. His right leg had never gained its full strength back after the Geonosis Moon. It still ached in the mornings and in the cold. He had started to go in for a right kick and immediately switched to left. _Stupid…stupid…not going to win like this…_

A flurry of jabs and punches followed, Kallus holding his own better than he would have imagined, but, soon enough, he found himself flat on his back. He was quick to jump to his feet, the movement earning him a warning pain in his right leg.

“Your technique is good, but limited by your training in the Imperial Academy,” Thrawn said.

Kallus welcomed the reprieve from the fight. Thrawn had allowed his need to dominate his prey distract him just enough to let Kallus scoop up one of Ezra’s collected Stormtrooper helmets.

“Predictable,” Thrawn sneered, catching the trooper helmet as Kallus pitched it at him.

What Thrawn had not predicted was the diving kick Kallus had aimed at his feet. The blow knocked the Chiss to the floor as Kallus slid past. Loosened from Thrawn’s grip during the hit, the jamming device fell to the floor. With deft speed, even though his right leg now throbbed, Kallus jumped to his feet and stomped on the jammer. 

The transmitter’s hologram flashed from red back to white. It would be able to complete its thirty second recording and send. It might not have been a huge win, but it was a win. Which reminded Kallus, he had a fight to lose.

“You talk too much,” Kallus panted. Well, if he had to go down, he might as well throw at least one verbal jab.

Thrawn’s mistake edged with the taunt meant the Chiss was no longer in any mood to draw the battle out. Kallus was fully aware of that as he stepped forward into a barrage of jabs that soon found him flying out of the tower room. If not for catching the railing hard in the back, he would have had a very unfortunate fall. 

Two Death Troopers appeared quickly, grabbing him roughly by the arms and hauling him to his feet to face Thrawn. 

Kallus’ heart was racing now. He was trapped, helpless, injured and tired. The transmission had gone through, what little of it there was. This was the end. He knew, as Thrawn stepped forward, this would be where he would die.

With his rigid stance, Thrawn towered over Kallus. “You have the heart of a Rebel.”

Still panting for breath, Kallus answered without thinking. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

_Yes, those seemed to be fitting last words._ Too bad, Kallus thought, no one who cared was around to hear them. 

Then Thrawn turned to re-enter the tower and the Death Troopers dragged Kallus in after him.


	2. Chapter 2

His energy near spent, Kallus gave what struggle he had left, but the effort only earned him a beating from the Death Troopers before they unceremoniously seized him and cuffed his wrists to an overhead bar. 

Thrawn gave no notice of the scuffle, his attention diverted solely to the transmitter. Even through his beating, Kallus saw enough to know the Chiss was plotting–that he was preparing a new torment for his prisoner. 

Time slipped by. No one spoke. No one moved. Kallus thought of tempting the fates and calling out some snide remark, but he held back. It had been fine to put on a brave face earlier, act as if he would dutifully take his death in stride, but as the time grew ever closer, his courage faltered. 

He didn’t want to die. He wouldn’t betray the Rebels. He wouldn’t give in to Thrawn, but he was scared. The inescapable fear crept through him and sickened him. How many times, Kallus wondered, had he caused that same fear in others. 

Kallus shrugged. That was why he hadn’t gone back with Ezra when the boy had come to extract him. Perhaps now he had the heart of a Rebel, but that hadn’t always been the case. He’d done too much to be forgiven for. This…this ending was better for him. He deserved this. A shiver ran up his spine. What was Thrawn waiting for?

As if to answer Kallus’ mental anguish, Thrawn began to quietly pace about the room. Halting for a moment, he used the tower’s aged systems to pull up a star map. The hologram flickered a few times before the blue orbs floating about remained in focus.

“You may have transmitted your warning, Agent,” Thrawn said, starting into a conversation as if they hadn’t waited in silence for what seemed like an eternity, “but, in doing so, you’ve given me the last piece of the puzzle. Now this is the trajectory of General Dodonna’s fleet,” Thrawn paused to point out the path on the star map. “And this is the trajectory of your transmission. Taken separately, they mean nothing, but together…” 

Kallus fought down his growing dread. Internally, he reeled with the thought that he’d put the Rebel base in danger, but he knew how to play this game. The Empire had taught him how to hide emotions well.

“Nothing,” Kallus replied, “There’s no planet there. The Rebels are smarter than you give them credit for.” 

Thrawn smiled, his gaze fixed on the spot on the star map where the two trajectories met. “A pity you do not study art, Agent Kallus. There is much it can show you, if you know where to look. Such as a system which does not appear on Imperial charts but is represented in the art of the ancient people of this sector. I believe they call this Atollon – now the home of your Rebel base.”

As the planet Atollon appeared on the star map, Kallus felt his breath catch. He had doomed them all. Through his shock, he barely made out what Thrawn said next. 

“Admiral Konstantine, deploy the fleet to these coordinates. We will join you shortly.”

Then everything went dark. By the time Kallus’ senses started to return, two Death Troopers were dragging him down a long corridor. Judging from the layout, they were most likely on a Star Destroyer. Glancing up, Kallus could just make out the image of Thrawn walking ahead of them. 

_Why am I still alive?_

“On your feet, Traitor!” One of the Death Troopers barked. “It’s about time you woke up.”

Head throbbing, Kallus somehow managed to get his feet under him. He could only guess that one of the troopers had given him blow to the back of the head in the tower. To keep upright, he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Gingerly, he tested the binders restraining his hands behind his back. It was nice to know that even beaten and unconscious, he was still considered enough of a threat to use binders.

By the time they arrived at the bridge, Kallus was stumbling, unable to keep up with the swift pace that had been set. Then, Thrawn abruptly came to a halt, and one of the Death Troopers pushed Kallus down to his knees. Pain seared up through his right leg, but Kallus kept his grimace in check, refusing to give Thrawn the satisfaction of seeing him in any further pain.

On the screen before them, the blur of hyperspace stilled and Atollon appeared. Noting the fleet of Star Destroyers and a Rebel ship tilting listlessly, already heavily damaged, Kallus felt a new wave of defeat sweep over him. 

Governor Pryce appeared beside Thrawn. “What of Governor Tarkin’s prisoners?” She asked.

Thrawn kept his gaze on the flaming Rebel ship. “General Dodonna is known for his courage. He wouldn’t be aboard the first vessel to flee. Its crew is therefore irrelevant.” 

Kallus stared, watching the wounded ship split in two with a further explosion. How many Rebels were aboard? How many were dying this very moment? Part of him raged against Thrawn’s apathy, but another part reminded him of how, not long ago, he too would have called those dying aboard the ship irrelevant. How could he have been that uncaring? How had he not seen the wrong in that?

“Open communications with the Rebel fleet,” Thrawn commanded. “I’m sure they’ll be interested in what I have to say.” He paused, stepping forward as holograms of Dodonna, Sato and Hera appeared. “General Dodonna, Commander Sato, Captain Syndulla, at last we meet in this theater of war, however briefly.”

Each met Thrawn’s greeting with a deep scowl, and, even though he knew she couldn’t see him, Kallus relaxed a little at having seen Hera’s image. At least she was still alive, for now.

“There is no escape,” Thrawn continued, “and your forces are badly outnumbered. This rebellion ends today.”

“We’ll never surrender to you, Thrawn,” Hera spat.

The Captain’s defiance, the pure spite in her voice, had Kallus smiling to himself. He’d been so sure his own errors had doomed the base on Atollon, Kallus had forgotten one very important element. Rebels have a way of turning the tables. No matter how foolproof a plan may be, the Rebels can find a way to make it backfire.

“You misunderstand, Captain.” Thrawn replied, “I’m not excepting surrenders at this time. I want you to know failure, utter defeat, and that it is I who delivers it, crushing down upon you. Now, let us proceed.” 

The transmission was ended, and the holograms blinked off.

Thrawn’s speech had given Kallus some small insight. Now, he understood why he was still alive. He’d been cuffed and led around like a prized tauntaun so Thrawn could be sure he’d been properly defeated. But, why? Why was this so important to Thrawn? Because he had the heart of a Rebel?

Kallus kept pondering that question as he remained on the bridge. He wondered and waited and kept hoping for the moment the Rebels would turn the battle. What insane plan had they cooked up to escape this inescapable scenario? There had to be one…there had to be...something…

Kallus watched as one Rebel ship after another began to fall. Each loss weighed heavily on Kallus’ mind, but he kept his emotions in check. He wouldn’t let Thrawn see that he was breaking. 

Then, Konstantine’s Destroyer broke formation. The honor of a taking down a Rebel ship had the Admiral blinded. Even Thrawn’s direct order could not deter the man. 

Kallus held his breath, waiting with anticipation. The Rebels had something planned, he knew it, but he just couldn’t figure out what. The Rebel ship made a swift turn, course set in line with Konstantine’s Destroyer. Disbelief and horror settled upon Kallus as he watched the ships collide. 

The Rebels had to be desperate. They were not ones to waste life, and they would not have chosen to sacrifice such a ship without a cause. 

Someone reported to Thrawn that a single ship had made it through the blockade. Was that why the Rebels had made such a sacrifice? For one ship?

The Rebel fleet turned, retreating back to the planet. Kallus frowned. He knew what came next.

With a ground bombardment, Thrawn could easily wipe the Rebel base off the planet, but, Kallus reasoned, if Governor Tarkin wanted prisoners, Thrawn would try and take the base with ground forces. A well timed bombardment would simply weaken and dispirit the enemy. 

Governor Pryce gave Thrawn an update, stating that the Rebels were taking cover under a localized shield.

“Very well,” Thrawn drawled, “let’s test their mettle. Commence the attack.”

Below, the planet’s surface erupted in explosions. Kallus watched the strikes, waiting impatiently for the ceasefire to be called. Shifting nervously, he glanced up at Thrawn. The Chiss was letting the attack go on longer than Kallus had assumed he would. The Rebels’ shield wouldn’t be able to withhold much more. 

“They’ve had enough. Cease fire.”

At Thrawn’s words, Kallus let out a ragged sigh of relief. For a brief moment, he had feared Thrawn had decided to end the base for good, to forgo taking prisoners. Now, the Chiss stood before the screen, seemingly admiring his work on Atollon. His tall, lanky silhouette so poised, the very picture of Imperial perfection. 

Eventually, Thrawn turned and started to stride by Kallus as he headed for the bridge door. Though the Chiss kept a calm demeanor, Kallus could tell Thrawn was eager to get to the surface and crush the Rebels. He’d called out to Pryce, saying that he was leaving her in command. A foolish choice, Kallus mused. Pryce was too jumpy, too unreliable in the heat of the moment. Kallus smiled to himself. Pryce would be another weakness for the Rebels to exploit in their escape. He could see it all unfolding now. That single lone ship that had broken through the blockade was sent to gather reinforcements. Who? Kallus hadn’t a clue, but he did know they would find Pryce a much easier target in the Destroyers than Thrawn.

Kallus let out a low, full laugh. The Rebels would win. He hadn’t cost them everything. The Atollon base, yes, that was lost, but they would survive. 

Hearing the laughter, Thrawn halted and turned back to face his prisoner. “The plight of your friends amuses you?”

“I’ve been in your position before,” Kallus answered, “only to have these Rebels pull a victory from certain defeat.”

“You and I are not the same, Kallus, as these Rebels are about to learn.” With that, Thrawn turned and exited the bridge.

He’d hoped to shake Thrawn’s resolve. As foolish as the notion had been, he’d tried, but Kallus only managed to open himself back up to doubt. How did the Rebels keep going against such odds when hope was so ever fleeting? 

_And yet…_

He eyed Pryce. To the untrained eye, she was the pinnacle of confidence, but he knew her tells. Kallus noted how her gaze darted quickly to any shuttle movement on the screen. Currently, it was all transports taking troopers to the surface, but that didn’t ease her scrutiny. With her focus so completely set on the planet, an attack from the rear would certainly take her off guard. 

Kallus risked a glance at the troopers standing guard beside him. The Death Troopers had left with Thrawn, and Storm Troopers had taken their place. As soon as Thrawn had left, Kallus had realized that escape might be possible. It would be long shot, but with a little patience and a lot of luck, he had a chance. 

Adrenaline pumped through him, and he fought to keep his appearance calm, stoic. He had to wait. He had to find that perfect timing. Unfortunately, the wait proved longer than he would have liked. The hours were punishment on his sore leg, but finally his patience was rewarded.

He only wished he’d had a better view of Pryce’s face when she heard the report. Rebels were on the hull, attacking the Interdictor. Kallus smiled. It was just as he thought. Rebel reinforcements were attacking from behind. 

Explosions sounded from somewhere in the fleet. Pryce clenched her fists at the sound, yelling at the first person who reported a problem.

“Just fix it,” she snapped, offering no guidance, taking no leadership. 

Yes, Kallus thought, this would almost be too easy.

“Thrawn’s not going to like you making a mess of his fleet,” Kallus chided. He knew it wouldn’t take much to make Pryce snap at this point.

“Throw this traitor out the airlock,” she growled to the Storm Troopers guarding Kallus.

There was no hesitation from the troopers, and Kallus gave no struggle. He allowed them to gruffly guide him away from the bridge, toward the lift. Pryce was a fool, easily pushed to rash decisions in her anger. He gave her one last glance. Her seething glare was still on him. 

Then, the lift doors closed and Kallus sprang to action. Normally, dispatching the troopers wouldn’t have been that difficult, but with the binders and injuries, Kallus found the skirmish a little more challenging. Still, by the time the lift came to a stop, both troopers were knocked out and Kallus had gotten his binders off. 

Exiting the lift, he made his way down the corridor. The throbbing in his leg continued, but it was numbed slightly by his new found rush of adrenaline. His thoughts were on one goal: get to an escape pod. Luckily, few troopers were left stationed in the corridors, and, after knocking out one last trooper, Kallus found a functioning escape pod.

Scrambling into the pod, launching it, sending the distress call, Kallus rushed through the motions. Only after the call had been sent, after he sat back, waiting to see how his fate would play out, did Kallus consider how unlikely it was that the Rebels would retrieve him. After the attack on Atollon, would they still trust him? How did they know he hadn’t betrayed them? Was it really worth risking their lives to save him after they had just been through so much? 

Kallus was so busy grappling with his doubt that he gave a start as the Ghost’s magnetic lock took hold of the pod.

They came for me. 

He almost couldn’t believe it. Relief flooded him. He’d made it. He had escaped.

Then, something else quickly settled into the pit of his stomach, driving the relief away. Guilt, grief, shame slowly bubbled up. He shifted in his seat, as he tried unsuccessfully to bury the emotions away. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t think he deserved a rescue. He didn’t deserve to be taken in by the Rebels. How could they see him as an ally after everything he’d done in the past? How could he face them? How could he possibly try and act as if he hadn’t caused them so much pain? How could he explain that his error had caused Atollon to fall? Thrawn knew the base’s location because of him.

This, Kallus reasoned, was all that blasted Garazeb Orrelios’ fault. One night stranded on a moon and the Lasat had made Kallus question more about the Empire than he’d had his entire life. Worst still, Garazeb had started the train of internal self-evaluation that had Kallus exploring truths about himself he wasn’t so sure he could live with. And if one night with a single Rebel had shredded Kallus’ image of himself so badly, what would a life amongst the Rebel Army do? Could he handle this?

Plus, he had nothing but the clothes on his back. Even his name was tainted now. Rebels would still see him as “Agent” Kallus and Imperials would see him as a traitor. 

Kallus took in a slow, deep breath and then slowly released it. “I owe the Rebels my life,” he said quietly to himself. “I will repay them for that.” He couldn’t deny that there would be more hard truths to come, but he’d felt what it was the Rebels fought for. Garazeb had helped him see that. He had Garazeb to thank for that.

With a sudden clatter, the pod door opened.

“You alive in here?” Rex called out, peering into the pod. As his gaze settled on Kallus, Rex’s features softened and he looked as if he regretted his choice of words. “Karabast, you look like hell.”

“I’m sure it looks worse than it is,” Kallus replied, gingerly getting to his feet. 

Rex gave a nod, though he looked unconvinced. “I’m heading to the bridge. You’re welcome to join me.”

Not waiting for a reply, Rex turned and set off, and, since Kallus really was at a loss for what else to do, he followed. 

The old clone was surprisingly spry, and Kallus found himself maneuvering a bit faster than his aching body would’ve liked, but he’d taken notice of the sideways glances the various Rebels aboard the Ghost gave him as he hurried past. He could see their confusion, their grief, their distrust. Few would have even known he had been Fulcrum. Deciding it was best not to test the waters, Kallus was certain continuing to follow Rex was his best option at the moment. 

General Dodonna appeared ahead of them, obviously heading the same direction. He entered the bridge only a moment before Rex and Kallus arrived. With a quick scan, Kallus found Hera, Garazeb and Kannan seated near the controls. 

Then, the Ghost made its jump to hyperspace, leaving Atollon behind.

Hera let out a tired sigh of relief.

“Ain’t that a beautiful thing,” Garazeb quipped, a halfhearted grin slinking across his face as he stared at the blur of space on the screen.

“Made it out by the skin of our teeth that time, we did,” Rex added. “Don’t think I’d like to be cutting it that close any time soon.”

Hera groaned. “How about we never cut it that close again.” 

“Agreed.” Kannan’s voice was a soft huff. 

After taking in a deep breath, as if steeling her resolve, Hera stood up. Slowly she glanced around the room, her gaze settling on each Rebel before moving to the next. Kallus met that gaze for only a second before looking away. He hadn’t meant to, but those searching green eyes held a flicker of concern as they fixed upon him. He wasn’t sure how to react. 

“I know,” Hera started softly, her voice warm, welcoming and yet full of grief, “we have lost so much, and we are tired, but it isn’t the time for rest just yet. We have so much to do. I know it is a lot to ask, but we need to set an example for the others to follow. They will look to us.”

There was a moment of contemplative silence. Kallus marveled at the stillness, the command Hera held even in her pauses.

“Kannan,” she continued, “I want you, Ezra and Zeb to see to the Rebels aboard. Tend to the wounded as best you can, help those find any comfort they may during this trying time, see if we have enough rations to get at least one decent meal out.”

“Of course,” Kannan answered, “I’ll let Ezra know.” The Jedi was up and moving toward the cargo bay. 

“I’ll check the med supplies,” Garazeb called out to Kannan as he followed after the Jedi.

Hera turned to Rex. “I need you to start plotting our course to Yavin IV. We cannot afford to be tracked. I’ll send AP-5 and Chopper up to assist you.”

“Understood,” the Clone replied and settled into the seat Kannan had recently vacated.

“General Dodonna,” Hera said, stepping closer to the man. “We have,” here she paused, sucking in a sharp breath, “so much to do.”

“I know,” Dodonna sighed. “We must take inventory of the fleet, see how many we lost, and we must speak with the Mandalorians. We owe them so much.”

Hera nodded. “We’ll use the common room as a meeting room for now. I’ll send for Sabine and the others.”

Feeling more like an intruder than a guest, Kallus made a slow turn for the door. 

“Kallus.”

He froze. He hadn’t expected Hera to notice his departure. He turned back to find her giving him a soft, tired smile.

“Stay close,” she said.

He felt a slight frown pull at his mouth. _Blast it!_ How could he let that slip? Hera must have noticed. Her own smile faltered for a moment.

“I’m sure we’ll need your advice,” she added.

Kallus shrugged. “Of course. I’d be happy to assist with whatever I can.”

Eager to move away from the attention, Kallus turned and headed into the corridor, Hera and Dodonna following close behind. Not knowing where to go once he was off the bridge, Kallus stepped aside, letting the Captain and Commander pass by as they moved toward the common room. 

“Thank you, Kallus.” Hera offered as she passed by. “For everything you’ve done for us.”

He tried to feign a smile, but it didn’t matter, Hera was gone. That was probably for the best, otherwise she might have noted the misery her gratitude produced. Leaning against the cold, steel wall, Kallus closed his eyes. Soon he would have to tell them that it had been his failure that cost them so much. He wouldn’t hide his mistake. If he was going to set a new path for himself, a better path, he couldn’t start out with lies. Hera would surely call him in for information on the Empire, and, when she did, he would tell her what had happened on Lothal. 

“You okay?”

Kallus straightened and looked up at the purple face looming before him. On pure reaction, Kallus grinned at the Lasat. It actually felt nice to have a comrade to talk with.

“I’m fine,” Kallus offered, noting that look of skepticism that crossed Garazeb’s face. He was really starting to wonder how bad he truly looked. “I’m just tired, but I guess everyone probably is.”

“Yeah,” Garazeb answered.

It took a moment, but Kallus finally realized the Lasat was starting at his right leg. Only then did Kallus realize he’d been favoring his left, keeping his weight shifted from the right. 

He felt a wave of heat flash across his face. Of course Garazeb would notice that injury.

“It’s fine,” Kallus offered. 

The Lasat scowled back at him. 

Kallus sighed. “I’ll live.”

Slowly, Garazeb’s scowl faded and he gave a slight nod. “We don’t have enough med supplies to go around, what with all the wounded. If we did, I’d…”

Kallus cut him off. “I’ve been through worse. Like I said, I’ll live.”

Again Garazeb nodded. “If you see Ezra, tell him I’m looking for him. Blasted kid made himself scarce right after someone sicked-up in the cargo hold. Had to clean the mess up myself.” With one final wave, the Lasat strode off. 

That short conversation left Kallus feeling all the more isolated. That brief joy of familiarity only highlighted how alone he felt. 

Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the wall. Slowly he tried shifting some weight onto his right leg. It protested, but the ache was still dull, bearable. Curious about the rest of his injuries, Kallus gave a slow twist of his torso, stopping abruptly as a sharp shock ran up his left side. He’d thought he’d felt the familiar pain of cracked ribs during his fight with Thrawn. Of course, that work over the Death Troopers had given him probably hadn’t helped.

He didn’t bother reaching up to feel the lump on the back of his head. The queasiness in his stomach and the slight blurring of his peripheral vision, along with that lovely slow throbbing in the back of his skull, were hint enough of a concussion. Even without medical attention, it was all manageable. Uncomfortable, yes, but certainly manageable.

Unwilling to sit and block the passageway, Kallus remained standing. Hours passed, and he found himself starting to drift off. He fought the sleep off, but wondered how much longer he could last. When was the last time he’d slept? Honestly, he wasn’t sure he could remember.

Hearing the common room door open, Kallus’ attention was drawn to the blind Jedi coming down the hall. 

“Kannan, thank you,” Kallus paused, “for taking me in.” The words weren’t enough. Kallus was sure of that, but he had wanted to say them anyway. 

“Thank you,” Kannan replied, his hand settling gently on Kallus’ shoulder, “for risking everything.” 

Kallus couldn’t tell if it was in the touch or the words, or just in the force itself, but he could feel the Jedi’s gratitude, and Kannan wasn’t grateful for Kallus’ actions. No, his focus lay on what the ex-agent had been willing to give up for the cause. 

In those few seconds, Kallus felt a flash of memories. Foremost was the knowledge that his death was at hand when Thrawn had discovered him. That memory was so terrible and yet…he could see something in himself to be proud of. 

Snapping out of the memory, Kallus eyed the Jedi carefully, but those milky eyes gave little hint back as to what the Jedi knew. Still, Kallus felt calmer, more at ease.   
Removing his hand from Kallus’ shoulder, the Jedi turned and continued down the hall. 

For a man who made it his life to gather intel, Kallus thought, I still have an awful lot to learn, don’t I?


	3. Chapter 3

Watching the flow of Rebels coming and going, Kallus considered slipping in to the common room, but he decided against such action. There was urgency in the men and women who strode in and out of the impromptu base of command. Blood stained clothes marked those who were working in the cargo bay treating the wounded. They would be delivering the latest casualty report to Hera and Dodonna. Then there were the weary-eyed Rebels studying inventory pads. Kallus could tell that no matter how many times those Rebels ran the numbers, the supplies on hand weren’t adding up to what the fleet would require.

He did not envy Syndulla and Dodonna’s positions at the moment. There would be many hard choices yet to come, and Sato’s death would be weighing heavily on them. 

Earlier, Kallus had overheard Rebels discussing the Commander’s death. He’d been surprised to hear the great Commander Sato had fallen, but then Kallus’ thoughts drifted back to the memory of the Rebel ship ramming Konstantine’s Destroyer. That had to have been Sato. It was his sacrifice that had saved them.

Kallus had tried to listen in on more of the conversation about Sato’s death, but the Rebels moved off, stirred by talk of rations being doled out near the cargo bay.

So, from his position in the passage, Kallus continued to watch and wait. It wasn’t until he felt the light pressure and warmth on his shoulder that he realized how entirely engrossed he’d become in analyzing the comings and goings of the common room. After giving a slight start, he turned to find Kanan and Ezra had come down the hall behind him. Kanan’s hand was on Kallus’ shoulder. 

Reaching out for physical contact seemed to be a new trait the blind Jedi had developed. Kallus couldn’t blame him, but, all the same, he wasn’t exactly thrilled with it either. From Kallus’ experience, there hadn’t been a lot of touching in the Empire. It felt terribly foreign to him.

“Hera would like to speak with you,” Kanan said quietly, his hand giving Kallus’ shoulder a brief squeeze before he let go and moved past. “Come on.”

Ezra trailed behind the Jedi. That annoying spark of energy typically fueling the boy was absent. Feet dragging, eyes half lidded, Ezra gave a sideways glance as he neared Kallus. A small smirk appeared on the kid’s face. 

“Good job not getting killed,” Ezra offered.

Kallus let one low huff of amusement escape. “Same to you.”

Kanan and Ezra were entering the common room before Kallus had even mustered the resolve to start moving, but he was glad they hadn’t waited on him. He was feeling far from nimble at the moment, and he wasn’t incredible eager to start relying on anyone for help just yet. There was something about his injuries that had him starting to feel too exposed. He’d suffered worse working for the Empire, but treating injuries there had been impersonal, almost anonymous. Somehow, he doubted that would be the case here. 

Pushing himself off the wall that had been so dutiful helping him stay upright, Kallus started down the passageway. He realized rather quickly that there would be no hiding the limp any longer. A sharp pain filled his right knee with every step. That discomfort he could bear. He was far more concerned with the constant pounding in his skull.

Lost in thought, he suddenly realized he’d limped himself directly into the center of the common room. All eyes were on him, studying him, faces laced with concern. Kallus took a quick inventory of those present: Hera, Dodonna, Sabine, Tristan, Ezra, Kanan and three more people he didn’t recognize.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” Hera said, rising from her chair and coming to Kallus’ side. Her hand slipped carefully onto his shoulder. “Have a seat.” 

The tactic was subtle, the gentle guiding hand that lead him to the chair. Even if Kallus had wanted to refuse the offer, he wouldn’t have been able to. He could tell that Hera wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

With only minor difficulty, Kallus sat. Getting up, he thought miserable, was going to be much more problematic. He could see Hera leaning in, studying him more closely, concern evident in her expression, but, thankfully, a distraction arrived.

The door to the room opened and Garazeb strolled in. The Lasat stretched and yawned. “What’d I miss?”

“Hera was getting Kallus settled,” Sabine answered. The Mandalorian was slouched at the booth, Tristan at her side. 

“And,” Ezra added, “she was about to ask him how he was feeling.”

“I’m fine,” Kallus grumbled. He felt a bit of tightness ease from his shoulders as Hera finally withdrew her hand. Honestly, he hadn’t been aware that he’d tensed up under her touch. 

“Yeah, like we’d believe you after that face you made when you sat down,” Ezra scoffed. “You are _not_ fine.”

Garazeb was quick to chime in. “I’m with the kid. You look horrible.” 

Kallus shrugged and decided his best option to avoid any overly annoying nurturing moments was to divert the subject. “What are your plans now? We still have one more hyper jump after this one, correct?”

Hera was eyeing Kallus carefully. He’d known she’d see right through the maneuver, but he’d hoped she also realized that he wasn’t yet ready for their help. Her scrutinizing stare kept on him, until she finally relented.

“After this hyperspace jump, Sabine plans to return with Tristen to help Clan Wren battle Clan Saxon.” Hera sighed. “We will try and come to their aid as soon as we can get everyone settled on Yavin IV, but that may take some time.”

Ezra stepped forward. “I’m going with Sabine.” There was defiance in the boy’s tone, as if he was ready to argue the point, but he was only greeted with a soft laugh from Kanan.

“I’d expected no less,” the Jedi replied. “I suppose we should pack our gear then.”

“Then…You’re going too?” Ezra asked, his guise of teenage rebellion shedding away.

Kanan gave a slow nod. “We owe them this.”

Kallus couldn’t help but notice how Kanan’s words seemed far more directed at Captain Syndulla than his Padawan.

“I know we do.” Hera replied softly. “Just….be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?” Kanan quipped. 

A rueful smile crossed Hera lips. She opened her mouth, ready to respond, but Dodonna cut her off.

“My apologies, but, before we make our last jump, it would be prudent to try and piece together how Thrawn found the Atollon base. If it can be helped, we must try and assure he doesn’t use the same method to track us again.” Dodonna paused and stroked his beard. His gaze shifted from Hera to Kallus. “If you could tell us what took place on Lothal, that might be of some help.”

This was it. Kallus drew in a deep breath, ignoring the protest from his ribs. For a moment, his eyes met Garazeb’s. There was a mixture of curiosity and worry etched in the Lasat’s face. His ears twitched ever so slightly. Finally, Kallus looked away.

“I’d been preparing for the Rebel attack,” he started, gaze focused on the floor in front of him, “seeing what Imperial protocols I might be able to exploit to leave some openings in the base’s defenses. By chance, I’d overheard that Thrawn was to have a meeting with Pryce–a meeting I was not to be privy to.”

“So,” Ezra said, “of course, you had to find out what was going on.”

Kallus nodded, but didn't look up. He felt overwhelmingly tired. Perhaps sitting had been a bad idea. It was as if the slight comfort had triggered his body into shutdown mode. He forced his weary mind to continue on. “I used a droid in the vents to record the meeting. From that recording, I learned that Thrawn knew of the upcoming attack on Lothal. He was preparing forces.”

“We wouldn’t have stood a chance,” Hera muttered. “We would have lost every ship.”

“But, how did Thrawn know?” Dodonna asked.

Kallus shrugged, finally daring to look up at Hera. “I’m not certain. I didn’t overhear those specifics, but I knew I had to get a warning to the Rebel fleet.”

“The message we received?” Garazeb took a step toward Kallus. “But it was incomplete. It sounded as if you’d been cut off.”

Kallus frowned. A numb dread seeped into his body. “It had. I’d started to record the message, using the transmitter in Bridger’s tower, but Thrawn was there. He had a jamming device.” Kallus paused, not sure if he could get the words out. “It was a trap.”

The room was near silent, save for the low growl that emanated from Garazeb.

Unsure of how it even escaped him, Kallus gave a weary, sad chuckle. “Thrawn even knew my code phrase.”

“You fought him,” Hera said, her voice even, sure. It wasn’t a question. “And you destroyed the jamming device.”

“And what little you had been able to record was sent,” Kanan added.

“It didn’t matter…” Kallus started, but Hera was quick to speak up.

“It mattered.” Her voice was raised, passionate. “It might not have given us a lot of warning, but even seconds matter in battle. We might have lost so much more if you hadn’t…”

“NO,” Kallus shouted, and then quickly stilled his tone. “Thrawn used the trajectory of my message.” He paused, knowing what needed to be said but finding the words a jumble in his head. “He used it to find the Rebel base. I didn’t save anyone. I led Thrawn to Atollon.”

Zeb growled. “He couldn’t have found us with that alone.”

“He had the trajectory of Dodonna’s fleet as well,” Kallus replied. After he said it, and witnessed the agony and remorse that flashed across Dodonna’s face, he’d wished he’d broken that news with a little more tact.

Dodonna started pacing, his hand scrubbing hard through his beard. “My fleet was being tracked? I led the Empire to Atollon?”

Kallus’ vision suddenly blurred, and the room felt like it swayed. He blinked hard, fighting to regain focus, but it did no good. He could feel fatigue shutting his body down. Eyes closing, Kallus slumped to the side and felt gravity pull him from his seat. He’d no defense. His body refused to obey him, so he mentally braced for the impact, but none came. 

“Karabast,” a voice growled. “I could use a little help over here. I knew he wasn’t okay.”

He was dimly aware of points of warmth holding him. Hands? Yes, hands were on him. There was the sensation of movement. Blast it, was he being carried? Kallus fought harder to regain full consciousness. The struggle was infuriating.

“Set him here.”

More hands were on him. His arms were lifted and he was surprised by the groan he made. He felt the brush of cloth rush past his head and a coolness settled over his upper torso. An inner voice called to him to give in and let the unconsciousness take over, but he fought against it.

“Whoa, that looks painful…”

“Ezra, go see if we have any medical supplies that can be spared.”

Gently, he was lowered so that he was lying on his back. A delicate touch explored his face and head.

“There’s a pretty big welt. He probably has a concussion.” It sounded like…Hera?

With less tenderness, a large hand skimmed over Kallus’ right leg. The pressure sent a jolt of pain shooting up his body. His groan was louder this time.

“Zeb! Be careful.”

Kallus’ stubbornness paid off. Through his intensive struggles to gain any control over his body, he managed to get his eyelids to flutter open. Vision still blurry, he let his gaze slowly wandered. 

“Hey.”

Kallus’ eyes drifted to the figure leaning over him. 

“Take it easy, okay.” Hera’s voice was soft. “We’re going to take care of you.”

Another figure drew near and, for a moment, Kallus’ vision cleared. He could see Kanan standing beside him, hand raised, two fingers extended. 

_“Sleep.”_


	4. Chapter 4

Hera had just made her way to Dodonna, ready to ease the General’s distress, when she heard Zeb call for help.

She turned to find the Lasat awkwardly supporting Kallus. Inwardly, she cursed herself for not insisting they look him over, treat his injuries, but the man had seemed so reluctant, so wary, that Hera had hesitated. 

From past experience, she knew to take extra care when treating those who’d been captured, perhaps tortured. They often needed space, more time before they could be handled and cared for without overly distressing them, but there was a fine line between waiting for them to accept help and treating the injuries that so desperately needed attention. 

_I obviously chose wrong this time._ Hera chided herself mentally as she hurried to Zeb. By the time she reached him, Zeb managed to move Kallus’ limp form into a somewhat more maneuverable position. One arm was supporting his back while the other was looped under Kallus’ legs. 

Forehead creased, brow furrowed, Zeb took a few steps forward and then looked to Hera. She could almost hear the question written all over the Lasat’s face. _Now what do I do with him?_

Kanan motioned to Zeb, directing his attention to the common room table. “Set him here.” 

Hera nodded and Zeb obeyed. It wasn’t ideal, not for the long run, but it would do for now.

Sabine and Tristan were there, giving extra support as Zeb set Kallus down. Hera lifted a corner of Kallus’ shirt, finding that angry patches of swollen red, purple flesh marbled his skin. 

_Well, that’s not good…_

She was able to remove Kallus’ vest easily enough. Then, Sabine and Tristan lifted his arms as Zeb continued to support him. The quiet groan Kallus gave as his arms were raised wasn’t missed by Hera. She frowned. The man must have been fighting hard to remain conscious. Hera slipped the shirt up over his head, revealing the full scope of Kallus’ battered torso. He seemed to be bruised just about everywhere, but the dark swollen mess around his left ribs appeared especially dreadful. 

“Whoa, that looks painful…” Ezra said, but quickly silenced himself after a glare from Hera.

“Ezra, go see if we have any medical supplies that can be spared,” Hera said. 

She was glad to see the three Rebels in charge of inventory, supply procurement and repairs clear out of the room as Ezra left. An audience was probably the last thing Kallus wanted at the moment. 

Gently, they lowered Kallus onto his back. It would have been nice if they had a blanket to lie over the cold, hard table, but, Hera reminded herself, this was only temporary. They would find an empty bunk after this and let Kallus rest. No, she knew better than that. The bunks were all claimed by weary, injured Rebels. They would have to assess those already in the bunks and decide whom, if anyone, should give their spot over to Kallus. 

Leaning down, she listened to Kallus’ breathing. It was steady, strong. She guessed that he had bruised, cracked ribs, but, most likely, nothing was broken. There wasn’t a lot they could do about the ribs. Meds and time were what that injury required. The chaffed, bloody wrists, would require the same. 

Carefully, Hera reached out, guiding a hand delicately around Kallus’ face. His pale skin had a sheen of cold sweat. 

He didn’t react to her prodding, so there probably weren’t any fractures. Slowly her hands hovered around to the back of his skull. There she found a large angry knot radiating heat. 

She signed. “There’s a pretty big welt. He probably has a concussion.”

Kallus gave a sudden pained groan, louder than the last, and Hera glanced down at Zeb, who was pulling his clawed hand away from the ex-agent’s right knee. 

“Zeb! Be careful,” Hera hissed, but upon seeing the sheepish guilt crossing the Lasat’s face, she immediately regretted her tone. 

She looked back at Kallus, surprised to find his glossy eyes open. His gaze was wandering around the room, not appearing to settle on anything in particular. Hera leaned closer, hoping he’d be able to focus on her.

“Hey.”

His gaze shifted to Hera. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes, but she could see his continued struggle to regain control. It was as if he couldn’t accept that his fight was over, that he was safe.

“Take is easy,” Hera said softly. “We’re going to take care of you.”

Kallus’ gaze shifted again, and Hera realized that Kanan had come up beside her. 

Hand raised, Kanan uttered a single word. “Sleep.” 

Kallus let out a low sigh, and his eyelids slid shut.

“Thank you, Kanan,” Hera whispered. “He needed that.”

“He’s carrying a lot of conflict within himself,” Kanan replied. “I don’t think he’d planned on making it out of the Empire alive.”

Hera had suspected as much, but it was still hard to hear.

“Well,” Zeb huffed, “he did make it out, and now he’s one of us. And we take care of our own, so he’s just got to get used to it.”

“Yes, he is one of us now, but…” Kanan paused as if searching for something through the force. “Not everyone in Rebel Alliance will welcome him, or learn to trust him. Among the Rebels, there still will be dangers for him, and, I believe, Kallus knows that.”

Hera wanted to argue that, but, as she reflected on what Kanan had said, she realized that she was still carrying around her own distrust for the ex-agent. Even as he lay beaten before them, because he’d tried to give the Rebels warning, she still found herself imagining Kallus turning on them one day.

“The Empire, most likely, has sent out orders to kill Kallus on sight. They can’t be thrilled with having an ISB Agent as a defector.” Kanan continued. “I feel uncertainty and fear from Kallus. He is unsure of his place in the universe now, and with enemies on all side, his path will be difficult.” 

Silence engulfed the room. Hera couldn’t help but look to Kallus. She studied the man more carefully. After listening to Kanan, Kallus appeared so…broken. He wasn’t that unyielding menace that had hunted them for so long–not anymore. He was lost. He was a misfit by most standards. He was…

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Kanan asked, snapping Hera from her thoughts.

“No,” she replied, “Well, maybe…”

“What?” Zeb asked. “The rest of us don’t have Jedi skills, so if you’d mind letting us in on whatever it is you’re talking about.”

Kanan gave a smirk. “Hera’s considering taking Kallus onto the Ghost crew.” 

“On a trial basis,” Hera added. 

“There was a time I would’ve never believed that was a possibility,” Sabine said, warmth in her voice, “but, now, I get it. Plus, this is what you do, Hera. You take people in when they’ve nowhere else to turn. You did it for the rest of us. It only makes sense that you do the same for Kallus.”

The common room door slid open, and Ezra sprinted back in with two bacta patches and a stimpack. “I was able to get these,” he said, handing the supplies to Hera. 

Honestly, she was surprised the med workers had that much to spare, but before she could set to work on Kallus, Hera felt the Ghost drop out of hyperspace, and her heart sank.

Scooping up her helmet, Sabine shot Hera a sad smile. “This would be our stop. I’m sorry, but we have to get back.”

“I understand,” Hera replied, and she did. She didn’t have to like it, but she understood. 

In a flurry of motion, Sabine hurried forward and wrapped Hera in a hug. 

“We’ll see each other soon,” Sabine whispered.

Holding Sabine tight, Hera gave a murmur of agreement, but her heart warned her otherwise. How long would their luck hold out? One day, her crew, her family wouldn’t all return to her. 

The embrace ended and Sabine turned to Kanan and Ezra. 

“Transport in five, okay?” She didn’t wait for a reply. After giving Zeb a quick hug, she hurried out of the room with Tristan trailing behind her. 

“We will see each other soon,” Ezra confirmed, as came in to give Hera a hug as well.

As she had with Sabine, Hera held Ezra tight. They had almost lost everything. Hera had almost lost all of them at Atollon. She wanted to keep holding on, to never let them go, but, that wasn’t how wars were won.

She released Ezra. “We will be there to help Clan Wren as soon as we can,” she said, hoping her words sounded stronger than they felt coming out.

Ezra nodded and then looked to Kanan.

“Go, gather our gear,” the Jedi commanded.

After giving Hera one last grin, Ezra turned to leave. He paused and glanced at Zeb. 

“I’m not hugging you.” Ezra grinned. “It would take forever to get that stink out of my clothes.”

With one great growl, the Lasat leapt forward, scooped Ezra up and gave him a hug that, from Hera’s perspective, was borderline cruelty. As soon as Ezra was free, he raced out of the room.

Hera watched the scene unfold, a smile creeping onto her face. How was it that her little rag-tag group always knew how to brighten her spirits? Then, Dodonna stepped forward.

His voice was quiet, pensive. “I’m going to go down the cargo bay and see how the med workers are holding up. When I get back, we can continue our planning.” 

“I’ll be here,” Hera said, but she was reluctant to let Dodonna go. 

The General was carrying a new guilt and the sight of the wounded could cause that guilt to fester. She watched him leave, sure that later she’d regret not stopping him.

“Zeb,” Kanan placed a hand on the Lasat’s arm. “Could you find a bunk for Kallus? I know things are tight, and it might mean moving some people around, but, could you?”

“Of course,” Zeb replied, “and…uh…Kanan…I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

Kanan smiled and that seemed to be enough of an answer for the Lasat. Without another word, Zeb left.

Hera set down the bacta pad and stimpack on the table next to Kallus.

“Are you going to tell me everything will be alright, that we will see each other soon?” She asked.

“No.” He stepped closer to her. 

She moved to him, happy to have his arms wrap around her. Closing her eyes, she soaked in his warmth, his smell, the feel of his heart beating.

The weight of the Rebel losses, of her responsibly, of her duty came crashing down on her then. Cradled in Kanan’s arms, Hera felt a few hot tears slid down her cheeks. 

They stood in that silent embrace for the next few minutes, and then Hera pulled away.

“You should get going,” she said at last. 

“I know,” Kanan replied, he turned, ready to leave, but paused. “I believe in us. I believe in our cause and our skill, and while I can’t say with certainty we will see each other again, I believe, with all my being, that we will.” 

Upon hearing that, Hera finally felt her confidence returning. She’d needed those moments of solitude with Kanan. She’d needed to release some grief, and now she felt ready to begin her work anew. 

“Thank you, Kanan.”

Kanan gave a slow nod and then left. Hera stared at the common room doors for a while, some part of her hoping the Jedi would return, but she knew better than that. 

There was too much to do to stand around hoping. Mentally, she ran through the long list of items requiring her attention. First, she’d see to Kallus. Zeb would be able to settle the ex-agent into a bunk after that. Second, she had to check in with Rex and make sure their next hyperspace jump was on schedule. After learning that Thrawn had tracked Dodonna’s fleet, Hera was tempted to make several more hyperspace jumps for safety, but the fleet was too battered, too low on supplies for such an undertaking. No, they had no choice at this point. 

If Dodonna wasn’t back from his walkabout by the time Hera was done with Kallus and Rex, she’d have to track the General down. It would do him no good stacking his guilt with images of the wounded. Plus, they had far too much planning to do. 

And maybe, just maybe, if Hera was lucky, she might be able to catch a bite to eat and a quick nap before they reached Yavin IV.


	5. Chapter 5

A comfortable warmth–that was the first thing Kallus was aware of, and then, as he drifted slowly back to consciousness, the ache of his body surfaced. He shifted and took note of the fabric covering him. 

_Am I in my quarters?_ No, his Imperial issued bunk wasn’t this nice. His blanket wasn’t this soft. 

He opened his eyes, surprised to find a C1 unit intently watching him. The little droid waved an arm at Kallus and gave a string of whirls and chirps that sounded remarkably like “good morning.” 

“Good morning?” Kallus croaked, surprised at the harshness of his own voice.

Again, the C1 unit was beeping and chirping, but Kallus couldn’t sort out the meaning this time. 

His mind clearing from the fog of sleep, Kallus ran through a quick inventory of his memories. Thrawn had discovered that he was Fulcrum. Atollon was attacked. He’d escaped from the Empire. He was aboard the Ghost. He was in a meeting with Hera and the rest of the crew and… 

_Karabast!_ He sat up, perhaps a bit too quickly, judging by the strain in his side. Ignoring the discomfort, he scanned the room. It certainly wasn’t the common room–which meant someone must have carried him here. 

Judging by the mural of the Ghost crew on the far wall and paint speckled floor, Kallus concluded he was in Sabine Wren’s quarters. That made sense. The Mandalorian girl was leaving the ship to help Clan Wren battle Clan Saxon. She would not be requiring the space at the moment.

What he couldn’t understand was why he was alone. The ship was quiet, but there should have been Rebels everywhere. Even Sabine’s quarters should have been filled to capacity. 

“How long have I been out?” he asked.

The C1 unit gave a long warbled chirp, and Kallus frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Perhaps a different question would provide a clearer answer.

“Have we reached Yavin IV?”

An unmistakable hum of the affirmative came from the unit. 

Well, that did explain why the ship had cleared out. 

Looking down, Kallus scowled at the wash of purple bruises decorating his torso. A lone bacta pad was plastered across his left ribs, and, though his side was sore, it did feel remarkably better than before. He pulled the blanket off his lower body to reveal another bacta pad wrapped around his right knee.

“Chopper?” He asked. “Where are my clothes?”

The melody of chirps escaping the droid was, quite obviously, laughter. 

“I can’t very well walk around the ship in my undergarments,” he added sternly. 

That statement only seemed to delight the little droid all the more. However, as Chopper’s laughter quieted, the C1 unit wheeled to the foot of the bed, lifted the covers Kallus had flung off himself and revealed a pile of clothes. 

Kallus eyed the outfit, noting the dull green and tan. It was probably for the best, having something to wear beside the Imperial garb. He would be more discreet this way. Still, some part of him mourned the loss of the familiarity, the comfort and security the uniform had granted him for so long.

After lowering his feet to the floor, he cautiously stood, careful not to put too much weight on the right leg. There was a dull ache, and the knee was stiff, but, thankfully, it too seemed to be on the mend. 

With his sore muscles, it took him longer to get dressed than he would have liked, and the lively commentary from the droid was not helping. Of course, it probably would have been worse had he known what   
Chopper was saying. Kallus had most certainly not appreciated the celebration the unit gave when he finally finished putting his boots on. 

“Yes, I understand that I’m not moving that fast, but you try and escape from the Empire and see how well you….”

Chopper cut him off, and, by some miracle, Kallus understood.

“Well, of course you have bested the Empire plenty of times and escaped, but that’s not what I…”

Still, Chopper continued.

“I stand corrected,” Kallus conceded. “I only wish you’d been around during my escape. That would have made things go much smoother.”

The droid went silent. Its only movement was the focusing of one lense at Kallus. 

“You’ve always proven to be incredible efficient.”

Still, Chopper remained motionless, just staring.

Kallus found the scrutiny uncomfortable. He couldn’t begin to fathom what the C-1 unit was trying to process, but he knew he wanted it to stop. 

“I could use something to eat, if you don’t mind showing me where to go.”

Chopper gave an exclamation of understanding and zipped for the door. The droid paused, waving an arm, motioning for Kallus to follow. 

“Okay, just not too fast…” That seemed to work.

There was a quick answer from the C-1 that sounded like he understood, but Kallus wasn’t sure. Limping along, he followed the droid into the passageway. 

What Kallus had not expected was the tour Chopper was gave along the way. The droid was chattering and pointing out areas and items the whole way. Unfortunately, Kallus could only understand a phrase or two at most. 

The pair entered the common room and Chopper motioned for Kallus to sit at the table. Kallus obliged, but his curiosity was peaked as the droid starting to wheel toward the galley.

“And what are you going to do?”

The droid’s tone was very matter-of-factly as he pointed to the galley and then to Kallus.

“You are going to make me something…to eat?”

Kallus was given a quick, friendly affirmative answer before the unit sped into the galley. However, the instant cacophony of crashes and clattering metal was not reassuring.

“You okay in there?”

Chopper’s answer sounded like an unconcerned _‘yeah, yeah.’_

Sitting alone, listening to thunderous racket the droid was making, Kallus realized, in that moment, he felt rather content. 

Reflecting back, he was glad it had been the droid who’d greeted him that morning. He hadn’t much wanted to be reminded of passing out at the meeting, or chided for not asking for medical aid sooner, and, for as curious as he is as to how he ended up in Sabine’s bed with treated wounds, he also wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

Not to mention, he knew the time for him to stand before the Rebel Court was at hand, and he could not find fault in them handing him a harsh punishment for his past, if it came to that. His future, even his life, still hung in the balance.

However, by some means, Chopper had disarmed him of that tension and dread. The little droid had been such a welcomed distraction. 

Another loud bang sounded from the galley, and Kallus smiled as he heard the unit begin a round of triumphant _“whoop-whoops.”_


	6. Chapter 6

Kallus had never seen porridge of quite that, shall we say, consistency. Tar like mounds were surrounded by pools of oily, liquid ooze and the color was, well, grim. He’d considered rejecting it on the spot, but Chopper was watching him so intently that he decided to brave the culinary concoction. 

He braced himself for the first bite, ready to hold back the retching, but it was surprisingly…good. Though it resembled porridge, the dish had far more of an exotic taste, laced with delicate spices.

“What is that?”

Kallus gave a start, staring up at Hera. She had slipped into the room rather silently.

“Chopper made it,” he replied, tilting the bowl so she could get a better visual.

“Oh.” Hera flashed a look of concern. “And you’re eating it?”

“It’s quite good,” he reassured her, but she continued to stare at the bowl as if the gray goo would come to life at any moment.

Kallus scooped up another spoonful, and Hera grimaced as he took a bite.

“I’m starting to worry that lump on your head did more damage than I thought.”

Chopper instantly gave a string of angry chirps and wheeled toward Hera. The Twi’lek rolled her eyes.

“Of course I don’t trust your cooking,” she scoffed, “I still remember how sick Ezra was after that last dish you tried to make.”

Chopper chuckled and gave a reply.

“What do you mean you meant to do that?” Arms crossed, Hera glared down at the droid.

As Chopper launched into his explanation, Rex entered the common room.

“Hello, Kallus. It’s nice to see you up.” The clone didn’t wait for a reply. Spotting the bowl of porridge, he started for the galley. Rex, apparently, wasn’t deterred by the off coloring of the food.

“Yes, I know…” Hera sighed, her patience with the droid obviously wearing thin. “He did lock you in a crate during the last mission, and he may have forgotten you in there, but that was an accident.”

Chopper’s sharp reply clearly indicated that the droid, in no way, believed it was an accident.

“Well, Ezra said it was an accident and…”

Another severe tone of disagreement sounded from Chopper. 

“Fine,” Hera huffed. “It wasn’t an accident, but no more poisoning crew members. That’s an order!”

Chopper gave a groan.

The whole scene was really rather captivating to watch, and that is exactly what Kallus did as he quietly continued to eat his breakfast. He’d only given a short pause from eating upon hearing how the C-1 unit had purposely sickened the kid, but he decided that he’d already eaten too much of the dish for it to matter. If he was going to get sick, he was going to get sick.

Emerging from the back, bowl in hand, Rex raised an eyebrow. “Who was cooking? The galley is practically destroyed, but this gruel is really good.”

Chopper’s celebration over the praise of his dish was short lived. 

“Get back there and clean up your mess,” Hera snapped. “And fix anything you broke!”

The C-1 unit sped toward the galley, paused, and then slowly wheeled back to the table. Staying clear of Hera, Chopper gave a few quiet chirps and pointed at the empty bowl before Kallus.

“No, I don’t think I need more,” Kallus answered. “That was quite filling and very delicious. Thank you, Chopper.”

The little droid gave another low beep, and Kallus carefully handed it his empty bowl. Then, Chopper set off for the galley again, giving Rex a low growl as he passed by.

Kallus turned back to find Hera, wide-eyed, mouth agape, staring at him. 

“Chopper…” She looked from Kallus to the galley. Already a horrible clatter was sounding from the room. “Chopper actually likes you.”

Okay, that stung a little. Kallus shrugged, unsure of how to respond. 

“That didn’t come out right,” Hera muttered. “I meant, well, Chopper doesn’t really take to anyone. I’d be surprised if he liked anyone who came aboard not just a…” She trail off and then snapped her mouth shut.

“An ISB Agent,” Kallus finished.

“Hey,” Zeb grumbled as he entered the room, “that’s ex-ISB Agent. You’re on our side now.” 

The sentiment was nice, but Kallus hardly believed the crew of the Ghost had the authority in the Rebel Alliance to make that call.

“When do I go before the Rebel Court?” No one seemed eager to answer Kallus’ question.

It was Hera who finally spoke up. 

“When you’re ready, they will convene. The committee panel is eager to get started, but, perhaps, you should visit base medical first and…”

“No,” Kallus said. “I’d rather get this over with.”

The room went silent, and Kallus couldn’t help but notice the worried glances Zeb, Rex and Hera exchanged. Already, he missed the easy banter that the morning had held. How nice it had been to have a glimpse into what life aboard this crew was like. It was certainly different from the Empire, but not as uncomfortable as he thought it would be.

“I’ll let the panel know you’re ready,” Zeb sighed, “but, for the record, I think you should rest up a bit longer. This process…well…it’s not going to be…uh…easy.”

Kallus nodded. “Thank you, Garazeb. I suspected as much, but I think I’m ready.” 

“I told you to call me Zeb.” The Lasat turned for the door, muttering one soft _‘karabast’_ as he departed.

Another loud crash sounded from the galley.

“I’m going to go check on Chop,” Rex sighed. “Or, more importantly, I’m going to go check on the galley.” 

Alone with Syndulla, Kallus felt the urge to thank her for all she had done, to apologize for his errors, for his past with the Empire, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, it was Hera who spoke.

“The Rebel Court will question you and listen to testimony from witnesses for two days–when they are not in session, you will be sequestered and kept in a central building on the base. They have chosen a panel of representative from the Alliance to review the testimony and judge your character. At the end of the second day, they will give their verdict. As for the members of the panel…

“Fae Saas, a Mon Calamari, is slow to speak, but she may ask very direct questions. Out of all the members of the panel, she will be the most likely to ask questions about your time as Fulcrum. She is thorough and fair.

“Stromgald Sypikne, human, will have little mercy in his questioning. He lost his family to the Empire long ago, and he is not easily convinced of a defector’s loyalty, but he can be convinced. He has in the past.

“Tomas Dryer, human, is a slight enigma. Much like the rest of the panel, he has served in many Rebel skirmishes. He lost an eye during an ambush, trying to infiltrate an Imperial supply line.

“Tril Treep, a Rodian, will not ask you questions directly, but he will be extremely vocal when the panel deliberates. 

“Tadia Hentz, human, is known for prodding, blindsiding inquiries and a knack for mentally draining those she questions.

“And finally, Rin Proga, human, is an up and coming Rebel fighter pilot. He is brash and will most likely be bored and fidgety during the sessions. I haven’t a clue as to how he found himself on the Court.”

Kallus blinked. That had been a lot of information to take in all at once. It was especially so since he hadn’t expected it. He couldn’t help but feel touched, and rather surprised, that Hera had gone to all the effort of collecting the intel for him. 

“If you are ready,” she added, “we should get going.”

He nodded, wishing he could get a simple thank you out, but she was already on the move. 

Kallus rose from the table and followed, glad that Hera’s pace slowed as she entered the hall. His leg may have been on the mend, but it still slowed him down significantly. 

They made their way through the ship and out into the light of day. Squinting, Kallus noted the fleet of ships surrounding them. Many were in the midst of repairs. Sweat drenched Rebels were laboring tirelessly to get the ships back into working order. Most ignored Hera and Kallus, but a few stopped in their work to study the pair. Their gazes and subtle scowls fixed a little longer on Kallus than he would have liked. 

As their trek continued, Kallus realized that morning was probably the last time he was going to see the Ghost crew for quite some time. They would, undoubtedly, be departing Yavin IV shortly to aid Clan Wren. In fact, he guessed that if he hadn’t been aboard their ship, they would have already been underway. 

He stumbled slightly, and Hera turned back, her expression concerned, questioning, but he was quick to wave her on. If he hadn’t been so lost in thought, he wouldn’t have missed his footing. It had nothing to do with his injuries, but, now, Hera was obliviously worried it had as she slowed their pace further. 

The shipyard gave way to buildings, and Kallus could see green swathes of jungle behind the outcropping of dusty structures. These had to have been some of the abandoned Massassi Temples of Yavin IV. 

They entered a building, and he felt a wave of relief as the temperature seemed to drop as they proceeded down a long flight of stairs. After traveling a maze of corridors, Hera stopped when they came upon an elderly woman waiting outside a set of double doors.

“Julia, it’s nice to see you,” Hera greeted and then motioned toward Kallus. “This is…”

“Oh, I’m sure I can guess,” the old woman chuckled. “This must be Kallus.” She smiled at him, her pale blue eyes sparkling in the dim temple light. “I, my dear, am Julia Lacer, and I will be your attendant for the next two days. If you require anything, food, water, a refresher break, please seek me out.”

“Thank you,” he replied.

The Rebel Alliance had done well in assigning Julia to him. He knew this tactic. Press a prisoner hard for answers, but provide them with a kind shoulder to lean on outside of the interrogations. Often, they revealed far more to the kind presence than the pain. 

Of course, that wasn’t going to work here, as Kallus had no intent of holding any information back during the questioning. There would be nothing left for Julia to worm out of him.

“Through these doors,” Julia said, “we will find the panel already convened. In the middle of the room, your table is situated. You will find a glass of water and a data pad there. The panel members may ask you to review documents and comment on them. Try to only speak when replying to questions. Disruptions slow the process down and don’t paint you in a favorable light.”

Kallus nodded. That was good advice, and he would have no issues heeding it.

“If you need a break, look to me. I’ll be at the back of the room. The panel members will know what that means.” Julia paused. “Are you ready?”

Again, Kallus nodded, not trusting his voice.

Julia swung the doors opened and motioned for him to enter. 

The room was not overly large. He’d imagined it would be, but, perhaps, that was because his mind was trying to mirror this to a trial of the same magnitude back in the Empire. This trial would have been quite the spectacle in the Empire. But, the Empire’s pomp and ceremony were mere publicity, showcasing how forgiving the Empire was to those who came to their senses and denounced the Rebellion. It was interesting, though, how many of those defectors, long after their trials were over and the public was no longer interested, seemed to disappear.

Kallus stepped forward, finding his table in the middle of the room. He sat, and began to study his surroundings.

Directly in front of him, on a platform, was a table with six individuals seated at it. The panel was just as Hera described–four were human, one was Mon Calamari and the other was Rodian. Name placards sat before each, and he read them carefully, making sure he matched each panel member with the information Hera had provided him.

Next, his gaze shifted to the additional tables, off of the platform, situated to the left and right of the panel members’ table. There were people seated at these tables as well. Some kept their eyes averted from Kallus, and others stared openly, hatred evident in their faces. 

As he continued to scan the tables, seeing if he could recognize anyone, his heart sank. 

Zeb was there. He met Kallus’ gaze and smiled, but it was a lopsided, forced thing. 

Then, the empty chair beside Zeb was filled by Hera.

_No. They should be leaving to help Sabine. They shouldn’t be here._

Kallus’ heart was pounding violently in his chest, but, for all the work it did, his body felt numb, cold. 

He’d been prepared to answer all questions, lay his life open for strangers to analyze, but this…

Yes, the crew of the Ghost knew a lot of his past, but not all of it, and the honesty he was about to present was going to be brutal, damning and painful to admit. Now, it would be all the more so with Hera and Zeb present. 

Kallus closed his eyes and took in a shaky breath. 

“Let us begin…” a voice called out.

He opened his eyes to find the panel members staring down at him. A few stragglers were taking their seats at the side tables. From the back of the room, Kallus could hear the doors click shut.

Fae Saas, the Mon Calamari, began the questioning. Her cadence was slow, the words drawn out, but each was well chosen and had impact. She asked about Kallus’ upbringing, about his life before the Empire. The answers came easily and Kallus felt himself relax slightly as he listened to the Mon Calamari speak.

Tomas Dryer took over after Fae Saas. His focus was on Kallus’ years in the Imperial Academy. He often halted Kallus mid-sentence to get some clarification on training techniques or the name or ranks of officers at the Academy. Nothing Dryer asked was what Kallus would have deemed classified or of importance, but getting through his answers with all the interruptions was remarkably jarring. Kallus couldn’t help but admire Dryer’s talent. This was a good tactic–to agitation him before hitting him with the first intense line of questioning. 

Next to question Kallus was Stromgald Sypikne. More than any of the others, Kallus could see the soldier in Stromgald. No, it was more than that. The man held himself with the conviction of a leader, of someone who’d commanded on a battlefield. Stromgald asked only one question, but that had been more than enough.

“What happened to your first unit on Onderon?” 

For the first time during the questioning, Kallus hesitated. Somehow, he hadn’t considered the fact that he’d have to relive that nightmare here. How, he wondered, had he overlooked that.

Mouth dry, he reached for the glass of water. That simple action was a sign of weakness. He would have taken note of it in any of the prisoners he’d interrogated. After taking a drink and setting the glass aside, he put his thoughts in order. _I can do this…_

He started by naming the members of his unit. Some, those he considered his friends, he went on to describe in further detail. Realizing he was stating to ramble, Kallus focused on the day of that fateful patrol. He spoke of how the explosion had knocked him unconscious and of how he came to only to witness the brutal deaths of the members of his unit. He explained how Saw Gerrera’s mercenary, a Lasat, strolled through the rubble, methodically killing the wounded. Those screams…he could almost hear them again. The terror, the pain reverberating in those sounds was too much.

They all died. Why he was left alive, he didn’t know. He still wondered.

Abruptly, Julia called for a rest period. Kallus blinked, realizing he’d gone silent and had been staring blankly at the data pad in front of him. How long had he sat like that? 

He glanced up, catching a brief glimpse of worry on Hera and Zeb’s faces before they could hide it away. 

And then Julia was beside him, coaxing him out of his chair, leading him out of the room and down the hall. Obediently, he followed, glad for the respite from questioning.

She took him into a small room. There was nothing in it save for a single cot. Julia guided him to the cot, sat him down and left, but she returned quickly, two trays of food in hand. She handed one to Kallus. 

“I don’t like eating alone,” she said, sitting down beside him. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t,” he answered softy, as he stared at the food. 

It was some form of rice dish, with fresh looking vegetables and a hearty portion of meat.

“You should eat,” Julia urged. 

Kallus smiled sadly. “I don’t seem to have much of an appetite at the moment.”

“Ah, Hera told me you might feel unwell. She said something about Chopper cooking you breakfast.”

He glanced over at the woman, his curiosity peaked. When had Hera told her that?

As if readying his thoughts, Julia answered. “Captain Syndulla was in the hall. She was asking how you were faring. I think she would have preferred to speak with you directly, but…it’s not permitted–not until the judgement has been made.”

“Are they,” Kallus paused, a lump forming in this throat, “are they, Hera and Zeb, going to stay for the entire proceeding?”

“They have been asked to,” Julia replied. “I believe Garazeb Orrelios has been asked to speak about Lasan.”

“Karabast,” Kallus muttered. It made sense that the panel would want to hear from one of the last Lasats.

“I’m curious, karabast, that is a Lasat word, is it not?” 

Kallus nodded. “I’ve heard Zeb say it countless times. I guess it sort of stuck with me.”

“You two have an odd friendship,” the older woman said, cocking her head at Kallus. “You are troubled about him speaking about Lasan?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” She asked, watching him carefully.

“Because I’m ashamed of what happened on Lasan,” he replied, and then he realized it was more than that. “And because…I could barely get through telling about the massacre of my unit in front of everyone in that room. How hard will it be for Zeb to talk about the slaughter of his entire species?”

Julia nodded. “That is a good point. Now, please eat your food. We don’t have much longer, and you’ll probably need a trip to the refresher before we go back.”

That was certainly not the reply Kallus had expected, and, though Julia’s response bothered him, he couldn’t argue it. He should eat, and he did need to use the refresher. 

They ate in relative silence after that. Kallus had finished half of his portions when Julia announced they had to leave if he wished to use the refresher. 

He set his tray aside, stood and followed Julia down the hall. Without the older woman, he was sure he would have gotten lost in the maze of corridors. Judging by pace Julia set, they were running late, and so Kallus used the refresher as quickly as he could, pausing only a second to get a look at his face in the mirror. His eye looked better, the swelling had gone down, and the bruises on his face had taken on more of a yellow and brown tone with the purple fading away.

When he exited the refresher, Julia was quick to direct him back to the Rebel Court.

They were the last to arrive. Everyone was already seated and waiting. 

“If we are ready, shall we begin?” Tadia Hentz sneered, glare fixed squarely on Julia.

Though human, Hentz’s aged leather face and beady eyes gave her the appearance of a Talpini, and Kallus was surprised to find her death glare did not have Julia cowering in the least. That seemed odd.  
Before he had time to ponder the interaction any further, Fae Saas called out a name, and asked the Rebel who answered to please share their story.

The first named called was that of a young farmer that Kallus had forced from his land. Destitute and desperate, he’d sought out the Rebels for help. After the farmer finished his story, Kallus was questioned about the incident.

He’d remembered it well. Rebels had been traveling across the farmer’s land when they made raids on a nearby Imperial camp. Kallus had seized the land to beef up the camp’s perimeter. The farmer was not offered compensation as he had not done his duty in reporting the Rebel activity.

Another name was called, another story was shared, and Kallus was again questioned about the incident. This cycle repeated over and over, but the stories shifted from lost land. 

People spoke of how Kallus branded their loved ones as rebel sympathizers, and he had them taken away, never to be seen again. Others told of how supply lines were cut by Kallus, and how their families started to slowly starve. Again and again he was questioned, and he never faltered in providing the truth. He’d done all those things in his hunt for the rebels. He could not deny it.

He could feel himself breaking a little more with each testimony. Once, he’d been so proud of his accomplishments. He’d thought he was making the universe a better place, but that wasn’t the case. Each achievement he thought he’d obtained now filled itself in with shame.

Finally, Garazeb Orrelios’ name was called, and he was asked to speak about the fall of the Lasat. 

Zeb appeared reluctant to say much at all. His version of the event was short, imprecise and obviously incomplete. It was Tadia Hentz who started asking the Lasat questions. Slowly, she got him to relive the fall of his people.

He spoke of the battle, of how bravely his people fought, but they could not hold against the T-7 ion disruptor rifles used by the Imperial Forces. He described what the rifles did to a living being–how those hit by it writhed in pain, their screams of agony echoing across Lasan before death found them.

Zeb’s face was strained, pained by the memories, and his voice waivered as he continued to speak of his people. 

Kallus watched, wanting to end Zeb’s torment, but knowing that interfering would only make the questioning worse. Unable to do anything, Kallus averted his gaze from the Lasat. Instead he focused on the table in front of him. 

Zeb told of how he’d been knocked out during the battle and how he’d woken up to nothing but death around him. There was something so hollow and cold in his tone.

Hentz thanked Zeb for his testimony before she set her focus on Kallus. 

“Had you seen Garazeb during the massacre at Lasan?” She asked.

“No,” he replied, his voice sounding quieter than he’d expected. “It was a big battlefield. I wasn’t in that sector.”

“Was Orrelios’ description of the battle accurate?”

“Yes.” Kallus could feel himself staring to sweat. All day, Hentz hadn’t been asking many questions, and her eagerness now to address him had Kallus on edge.

“You killed a lot of Lasats that day, correct?” She asked.

“In hand-to-hand combat? Four.”

“Four, in hand to hand combat?” Hentz sounded intrigued. “That is impressive, and I heard at least one was a Lasat Honor Guard. You took his bo-rifle as a trophy, did you not?”

“I did not,” Kallus replied. “He gave it to me.”

“Oh yes,” Hentz’s voice was too lighthearted. It sounded wrong. “That is the Lasan warrior way–giving up your weapon to a superior foe who bests you. That is quite impressive that an Honor Guard gave you his bo-rifle, but, now, I also have to wonder how many Lasats you killed by means other than hand-to-hand combat.”

“I…I’m not sure of the number,” Kallus replied. “A lot.”

“Hmmm, that’s not a very accurate number.” Hentz paused. “Maybe we’ll get a more accurate number if we ask how many Lasats survived in your sector.”

“None–they were all killed.” Kallus kept his gaze on the table. A small portion of him was desperate to look up at Zeb. He craved some reassurance, some understanding, but he couldn’t bear to witness any more of the Lasat’s pain.

“Oh my, you did earn your nickname didn’t you, Butcher of Lasan? So, if Garazeb Orrelios had been in your sector?” Hentz asked.

“I would have killed him.” The answer came to Kallus without bidding. It was the truth, and yet it rolled out of him in such a way that twisted his stomach. It was that cold, Imperial tone that had edged back into his voice. _No, that’s not who I am anymore…_

He could feel panic set in as his chest tightened and his breathing became labored. Suddenly, Julia was at his side.

“That is enough for today,” she declared to the panel. “After all, we still have another full day ahead of us tomorrow.”

She took Kallus by the arm, practically pulling him from the room. In a daze, he limped along after her. Soon enough, he found himself in the small room sitting on the cot. 

Julia crouched down in front of him. “Look at me, Kallus. Look right here.” 

He raised his gaze from the floor to stare into her eyes. His lungs ached for a full breath, but the tension in his chest and throat only grew.

“Hey, that’s it.” She smiled. “Now, concentrate on my breathing. Nice and slow. In and out. Yes, that’s right, match me.” 

It took time, but Kallus finally clawed his way out of the panic that had overtaken him. 

“Thank you,” he said at last, when he was sure his body was done betraying him. 

“It is what I am here for.” Julia replied, seating herself beside Kallus on the cot.

“Not entirely.” Kallus couldn’t be absolutely positive, but he suspected there was more to Julia. “We use the same tactic in the Empire–giving a prisoner a sympathetic shoulder to turn to during their down time between interrogations. It is often…effective. That is partially what you are here for, isn’t it?”

Julia shrugged. “We should have known an ex-ISB agent wouldn’t be easy to fool.”

“Yes, you should have known,” Kallus narrowed his gaze at her, “and perhaps you did, but you weren’t concerned.”

“An interesting assessment…” Julia gave a tight lipped grin.

“When Hentz chastised you for our tardiness, you did not act like her subordinate. You met and matched her ire as a peer. Plus, there has not been a single moment when you’ve called to the end of questioning that anyone argued otherwise. Even Hentz let you end her rather effective bout of interrogation.” Kallus paused, sorting through the information catalogued in his head. “I find it interesting that this panel is comprised of six members, as, if I recall correctly, trials by panel are to be conducted by an odd number of panel judges. After all, even numbers could lead to a split decision.”

“What are you implying, Kallus?”

Karabast…he was so tired. Zeb had been right, he wasn’t ready. He should have waited and rested up more. 

“You are the seventh member of the panel.” He answered. “Though unorthodox, it is an interesting tactic. My guess would be that you are in the field of behavioral study, and you are using this extra time to help assess my character and mental well-being.”

“You are remarkable perceptive, Agent Kallus.”

He grimaced as she used that title.

“I’m sorry, my mistake. You are no longer an Agent of the Empire.” Julia stood and walked to the door. 

Suddenly, Kallus felt a pang of regret. “Will you…will someone else take your place in being my attendant?”

She looked back at him, soft smile on her face. “No, I think I shall remain, but, perhaps, we won’t advertise that you’ve puzzled out who I am. For now, I’m going to go get our dinner, and then you will get a trip to the refresher to clean up. Finally, you should get a full night’s rest. Tomorrow will be another very long day.” 

He nodded and watched her leave, hoping he could make it through another day without completely breaking down.


	7. Chapter 7

Julia returned with a datapad and a bowl of stew. 

“Here,” she said, holding the bowl out for Kallus to take, her own meal seemingly absent.

He tried to thank her, but it came out as a tired mumble. 

Without prompting, he started to eat. There was no want or hunger driving him. His actions were mechanical. His body needed nourishment and he knew Julia would not allow him to skip the meal. Vaguely, he was aware of the rich, salty flavor of the stew, but the taste kept dulling as his thoughts wandered.

In his peripheral vision, he could see Julia studying her datapad. Every so often, her gaze would dart to his bowl before returning to her reading. 

Kallus shrugged. “You know, you can ask me questions _while_ I’m still eating.” 

“Well, I wasn’t sure that would be polite,” she replied with a smirk. “Plus, it’s not nice to talk with your mouth full–very sloppy. I find it rather disgusting.” 

And for all he’d been through that day, Kallus still found himself smiling. 

Julia was quite adapt at setting people at ease with the slightest of comments. He very much admired that talent. 

They remained silent as he ate. Engrossed in the reports she was pouring over on the datapad, Julia’s sideways glances to his bowl had stopped completely. Kallus kept thinking about how the situation should have felt incredible awkward. The old woman’s presence should have been an annoyance, but, somehow, it wasn’t.

He finished the stew, and, seeing nowhere else to set it, he placed the empty bowl on the floor. For all the eagerness she’d seemed to hold earlier, Julia gave him only a brief glance before returning her attention to the datapad. After a few long minutes, she turned and set the pad on the cot beside him.

“My apologies,” she said, her eyes fixed on Kallus. “I was making sure the reports were in order. If you are not too tired tonight, we would like you to start reviewing our data on the Empire. The material we deem most important is at the top of the list.”

He nodded. It made sense that they would want to start mining him for information, but he felt an uncertainty over being granted access to this wealth of Rebel intel. 

“You look troubled.” Julia said, her tone clearly implying she expected a response.

“I was wondering what this meant,” he said, gesturing at the datapad. “Either someone trusts me, or I should learn to get very used to tiny rooms like this.”

She seemed to ponder that for a moment, but he could tell, by the faint, tight-lipped smile, she had no answer for him. 

He shrugged and looked away. “Are there more questions you had for me?” 

A heavy sigh sounded from the old woman and a span of silence followed. Patiently, Kallus waited, knowing Julia was taking this time to carefully consider how to proceed. 

“Your reactions today were more intense than I was prepared for. I think they were more intense than you were prepared for as well. I do have questions for you, but…” She trailed off, her voice laced with uncertainty.

“I think I’ll fair better here without…” he paused, realizing he was about to say Hera and Zeb watching, but, for all the honesty he was willing to give, he suddenly held back that one truth. “…an audience.” 

He could feel Julia’s eyes on him, assessing him, analyzing his words, his inflections, and his body language.

“Okay, tell me about Lasan,” she said at last.

Kallus sighed. “I’ve already told you about Lasan. You were there for…”

“No.” Julia cut him off. “You started to tell the panel, but that wasn’t the complete story. I want to know why you were sent to Lasan.”

“It was supposed to be a peacekeeping mission.” 

“And what happened that changed that?” she asked. 

That question had troubled Kallus since Lasan, but, when he was still with the Empire, he found the answers too conflicting to pursue. Instead, he used the same justification that always arose when tactics became too unsavory–it was for the good of the Empire. That was all he had to know.

“The units being deployed were told it was a peacekeeping mission,” he began, “but I doubt that was what the Empire ever had in mind. The situation on Lasan was far more volatile than we were told, and our mere presence, along with the fact the Empire sent us with a massive arsenal, stirred the Lasat to action. Simply put, those in command had to have known that bloodshed would be the only outcome in sending so many armed troops to the planet.”

“How did the fighting start?”

Kallus thought for a moment, before he realized that he wasn’t entirely sure. He’d read all the reports on the conflict, but that aspect had remained a point of contention among the officers. “It just did. I had barely arrived on the planet before everything turned…chaotic. Perhaps a Lasat attacked first, or maybe a trooper with a twitchy trigger finger took the first shot. I’m not much sure it matters.”

Julia nodded. “Tell me about the battle.”

He cringed at the request. Hadn’t enough been said already?

“It was as Zeb said it was. I don’t know what else you want to hear.”

“I want you to tell me what it was like for those units deployed to Lasan,” she answered softy. 

Psychologically, it was a good line of questioning. He had noted how she had been careful to ask about the battle from his unit’s perspective and not just his. Obviously, she was trying to find a way to mitigate his guilt and get him to give an open account of what he had witnessed. Clever.

“There had been a briefing about the layout of the area, but few of us had ever seen Lasan before. A quarter of the troopers had probably never seen a Lasat.” Kallus paused, considering what Julia would ask next. “My own encounter with a Lasat, on Onderon, wasn’t easing my apprehension of going to the planet, but, I kept reminding myself, this was to be a peacekeeping mission. These Lasat were not the same as the one on Onderon. Perhaps, they could be reasoned with.” 

“Did you try reasoning with them?” Julia asked, and she seemed genuinely startled by Kallus’ sharp, joyless laugh.

“No,” he answered, “The planet went from tranquil to raging battle in seconds. The Lasat were the most fearsome fighters I have ever encountered. Swift and aggressive, they were blurs of motion plowing through our ranks. They were faster and stronger than us, and they knew the terrain. It became clear that we would not win, and, unless we retreated, I did not believe we would live.” 

“And why didn’t you retreat?”

Kallus shook his head. “Orders were to stay and fight. Transports only came down for the wounded and dying, and even those ships were hard to find. We couldn’t retreat, so, as a desperate measure, we started to use the T-7 ion disruptor rifles. Nothing else had been as effective. No other weapon fired with such speed, precision or with such lethal results.”

“And the battle turned in your favor, but why were the Lasat all killed?” Julia questioned. “Why didn’t the Empire take prisoners?”

“Lasat don’t surrender easily,” Kallus replied. “In fact, on that battlefield, the Lasat wouldn’t surrender at all. Plus, with their strength and rage, they proved too difficult to handle. Orders came down to kill any aggressive Lasat we came across.”

Julia frowned. “And from a trooper’s view, they all looked aggressive.”

“Yes,” Kallus replied, his memories of the agonized screams of the dying Lasat briefly surfacing. “That pretty much sums it up.”

For a moment, they both went silent, and then Julia stepped forward and collected Kallus’ empty bowl from the floor.

“Where were you during the end of the battle,” she asked, “when the units were clearing their sectors of Lasat?”

“I’d run into a Lasat Honor Guard and we’d been engaged in hand-to-hand combat during the…”

She stopped him. “Why fight an Honor Guard? Why not use the T-7?”

“I didn’t have one at that point.” He replied. “I’d given it to a trooper. My combat skills were superior to his. I had a better chance of surviving without a weapon than he did.”

“So, you fought the Honor Guard and won, and he gave you his bo-rifle. What did you do after that?”

“Not much. It would be difficult to fight to the death with an Honor Guard and come away unscathed. I was in no condition to continue fighting after that.”

Julia opened her mouth, as if to ask another question, but she must have changed her mind. Instead, she turned and walked toward the door. 

“Thank you for answering my questions.” She said softly, not turning to face him. “I apologize for any discomfort I may have caused. Now, I will leave you to look over the data and get some rest. There are two guards outside your door. If you need anything, just ask them. I will return in the morning.”

And then she was gone.

It was an odd, rather abrupt end to her questioning, and Kallus found himself trying to decipher the meaning behind it, but he found no answer satisfactory. Finally, he gave up and picked up the datapad. Whether she knew it or not, it had been quite a kindness for Julia to have given him this distraction. After all, he found a great amount of comfort in reading reports and analyzing data, and, currently, he needed all the comfort he could get.

Opening the first report, he immediately began to soak in the information. He corrected a few points of misinformation and added a healthy set of his own notes and suggestions. The second and third reports required more corrections and his notes were, perhaps, preposterously lengthy. It probably would have been easier to have rewritten both reports. 

Half way through his perusal of the fourth report, a message blinked across the datapad. It simply read: ‘You’ve done enough work for tonight. Get some rest. –Julia’

Kallus gave a grumble and tried to clear the message from the screen, but the datapad powered off. He considered prying it open and manually rebooting it, but judging by the burn of his eyes and ache in his body, it was getting late. Julia, with her nagging message, was correct. He needed to get some rest.

He set the datapad aside and lay back on the cot. Overly firm, unforgiving and uncomfortable, it felt like an Imperial bunk. It didn’t matter though, he knew he was tired enough to sleep just about anywhere.

However, any sleep he found was repeatedly shattered by his confused mind reeling him awake, screaming at him to escape, to get away from…Thrawn? The rebels? He didn’t know. Whatever nightmares that shook him from his slumber were lost to him when he awoke. 

Heart pounding, shivering in a cold sweat, each time he woke he felt like an absolute fool. He wasn’t a child any more. Dreams weren’t supposed to bother him that much, and, yet, it kept happening–all night long.

With such troubled sleep, it hadn’t been a difficult choice to rise early and ask the guards to take him to get some breakfast and then take a trip to the refresher to get cleaned up. Quite frankly, he’d been surprised at how accommodating the guards were, until he saw his reflection in the refresher mirror. 

_Karabast…_

No wonder they were kind. He looked absolutely pitiful. 

Glossy, bloodshot eyes stared back at him from his reflection. His face was hauntingly pale, save for the fading yellow and brown bruises and the deep bags under his eyes. He only hoped a hot shower would improve his pallid tone.

He’d been grateful to find the refreshers had water and not just sonic showers. From experience, he knew the warmth and gentle patter of the water would ease his stiffness and aches far more than the sonic shower would. 

Though he would’ve preferred to linger, Kallus was quick with his shower. A base of this size, with this many people, couldn’t afford to have anyone draining precious resources for their own indulgence. 

After drying off and dressing, he checked his reflection again. A touch of color had returned to his cheeks, but, otherwise, he was still pale–too pale. And, much to his frustration, a couple wisps of hair were now refusing to stay smoothed back. At least, he mused, I’m starting to look the part of a rebel.

After unsuccessfully trying to flatten the wayward strands of hair back into place. Kallus decided there was nothing more that he could do about his appearance, and he had the guard escort him back to his room.

“Weren’t there two of you before?” He asked as they made their way down the corridors, but the guard merely shrugged and kept moving.

When they returned to his room, Julia was waiting for him, and she wasn’t alone. The man accompanying her was thin, terribly bowlegged, and wore a faded, patched suit. At his side he carried an oversized black bag.

“Good morning,” Julia greeted. “This is Doctor Mikos Anor. He is here to look you over.” 

Kallus grimaced. The missing guard must have gone and reported to Julia that he was looking rather rough this morning.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Anor,” Kallus replied, managing to sound cordial while casting a glare at Julia. 

“No, it’s probably a surprise to meet me,” Anor returned, “Julia has a way of talking me into seeing patients without first conferring with the person, and, judging by that look you just gave her, this visit is no different.”

“Mikos,” Julia hissed, “we talked about this. He doesn’t get a choice this time. It’s a court health assessment.”

Anor waved her off. “That’s what you always say. You could at least tell them I’m coming. How hard is that, to give them a tiny bit of warning?”

Julia turned to Kallus and smiled. “Well, I’ll let you get to it then. I’ll be back when the examination is finished.”

Thankfully, after Julia left, Doctor Anor seemed as eager as Kallus to get the examination over with. As instructed, Kallus stripped off his sweater and pants, and the doctor prodded his ribs and commented about how well they were healing. He assessed the various bruises on Kallus’ body, and gave the binder wounds on his wrists a spray of bacta.

It was Kallus’ right leg that gave the doctor pause. 

“You’ve injured this leg before?” Anor asked, though it almost seemed to be a statement.

“Yes, I crash landed on an ice moon.”

Anor nodded. “That does happen from time to time. And have you injured it any time before that?”

Kallus made a mental tally of all the times he’d nearly been blown up by Sabine’s explosives, Force pushed by either Kanan or Ezra, tossed about by Zeb, and crashed speeders or shuttles in his pursuit of the rebels. “Yes, I have. Never as bad as on the ice moon though.”

“Well,” Anor paused to open his bag and put his bacta spray away. “For now, I think it will probably just need some more time to heal properly. Just avoid ice moons for a while, yeah?”

“Yes,” Kallus replied, “of course, thank you.”

“Bah, don’t go thanking me. It’s my job,” Anor huffed. “Now, you’d better get dressed before that woman comes storming back in.”

There was a light knock at the door and Julia’s voice sounded. “Is it alright to come in?”

Years of waking to emergency alarms aboard Imperial ships had given Kallus all the practice he needed in getting dressed at a moment’s notice. 

“Yes, yes, come in,” Anor answered as Kallus finished dressing. “We’re all done.”

“Did everything go alright?” She asked, stepping into the room.

“His injuries seem to be healing nicely. Besides the leg possibly being an issue–he is in very fit shape.” Anor closed his bag with flourish. “Honestly, I’m not sure you really needed me here.”

Kallus couldn’t have agreed more.

“Well, he is looking a bit pale.” Julia’s smile faltered. “I was hoping you’d find some insight into that.”

Anor groaned and turned to face Kallus. He gave his patient a head to toe glance and then grabbed his bag and started for the door. “He didn’t sleep well. The cot is uncomfortable and he’s been through a lot lately–probably had nightmares. Really, you could have just asked him.”

Julia followed Anor to the door. “But I do so like for you to feel needed.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Thank you, Honey. I’ll be home late again tonight.”

“Yeah, I expected as much.” Anor glanced back at Kallus and winked. “Now, don’t go falling in love with my wife, okay?”

Julia chuckled and pushed him out the door.

“Old fool doesn’t know when to act professional…” she muttered. Turning back to Kallus, she flashed him a cheerful, but strained smile. “Are you ready?” 

He nodded, though, truthful, he wasn’t sure. For as much as he wanted to know what the final outcome would be, he was hesitant as well. This decision, to be made by people he’d considered his enemy for so long, would shape the rest of his life.

Julia’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Let’s get this over with then.”


	8. Chapter 8

Upon Kallus’ request, Julia brought him to the court room well before the session was to start. He hadn’t been eager to sit in the quiet of the room as people gradually shuffled in, but, knowing how wretched he looked that morning, he preferred to get himself seated and settled without too large an audience watching. 

Either to pass the time, or not waste it, Julia had given Kallus a datapad with the reports he had been reviewing the night before. Eager for the distraction, he scrolled down to the fourth report. Though incomplete, the raw data on the various mining operations under the Empire’s control was impressive. Even more extraordinary were the calculations on the end products being created by those ores. If the numbers were even remotely correct, it appeared the Empire’s output was not matching the amount of resources being consumed. 

Kallus stared hard at the data, hoping something would stir in his memory that would be worthy of adding to the report, but, in is time with ISB, all he had heard were rumors of a secretive, large-scale build the Empire had undertaken. Of course, he’d been curious, but his devotion at that time was to capturing or suppressing the rebels. 

“We shall begin.” A voice announced.

Setting the datapad aside, Kallus stared, wide-eyed at the filled tables before him. He felt his body tense as he spotted Zeb and Hera. He’d been so caught up in the report, he’d failed to notice their appearance, and seeing them now caused a strange swelling of relief and dread to stir within him. 

Neither Zeb nor Hera seemed to notice Kallus studying them. Instead, they were talking softly to each other, their worried gaze darting to the holoprojector that had been set up in the room.

From the panel, Tomas Dryer called a name and asked the woman who stood to share her story. Kallus listened, but his attention was divided between the testimony and the holoprojector. He was already fairly certain who would be contacting them via holo–Kanan Jarrus, Ezra Bridger and Sabine Wren. The unknown lay in the distressed expressions worn by Hera and Zeb. Kallus could only guess that the three members of the Ghost crew had missed their scheduled contact time.

_“Kallus?”_

Refocusing on the questioning, Kallus mentally ran back through the woman’s story before answering. “Yes, that all sounded correct. Her land on Lothal and her shuttle were seized by the Empire, or, more directly, I seized her assets for the Empire.”

More names were called, more stories told, and Kallus verified each. All the while, he could feel the tension, the anticipation and pure anxiety hanging in the room. He was sure now–the contact that was to be made by holo was long overdue. 

When there were no more names to be called, after a brief discussion, the panel asked the witnesses who’d presented their testimonies to vacate the room. Aside from the panel itself, only Hera and Zeb remained.

“Kallus,” Stromgald Sypikne waited to continue until his gaze was met. “I’m interested in hearing about an incident that happened a while back on Lothal. Kanan Jarrus was captured by the Empire, as he and the Ghost crew used an Imperial Communication Tower to send a message encouraging those being oppressed to unite. What was your role in his capture and captivity?”

The panel had doubtlessly planned on asking Kanan about his capture on Lothal via holo, but his communication link had never come through. Worry slowly began to root itself in Kallus’ mind. The Mandalorian clan wars could be brutal and without the rest of the Ghost crew there to back them up, Kanan, Ezra and Sabine could be in immense danger. 

“Kanan Jarrus fought well,” Kallus replied, trying to maintain an even, calm tone. “He stayed behind so that his crew could escape.”

“And, once he was captive, you initiated his…” Stromgald paused, his expression souring, “…interrogation.” 

Kallus frowned. “You mean torture?” He could sense Hera’s eyes on him, boring into him.

“Yes, that I do.” Stromgald replied. There was almost a hint of apology to the man’s voice, as if he regretted his earlier choice of words.

“I used an IT-0 Interrogator Droid to mind probe Kanan Jarrus, but Governor Tarkin deemed my method ineffective, and the Grand Inquisitor took over. I was dismissed. Later, still having little success in getting the prisoner to talk, Tarkin and the Grand Inquisitor decided to move Jarrus to Mustafar.”

Stromgald nodded. “Thank you, Kallus. That was all I wished to know on the matter.”

Without thinking, Kallus found his gaze darting to Hera. Her stare, narrowed and penetrating, was fixed squarely on him. Brows furrowed, lips pursed, she seemed to be stewing in a mixture of contemplation, worry, and anger. Beside her, the usually expressive Zeb was impassive, indecipherable.

“Tell me….” Tadia Hentz began suddenly, sending a fresh surge of apprehension through Kallus. “What exactly happened to Minister Maketh Tua?”

Hera’s eyes scanned Kallus, as if she was analyzing his reaction to the question, as if she was hoping that, for once, he could claim innocence, but they both knew better.

Kallus looked to Hentz, finding her gaze easier to meet than Hera’s. 

“Governor Tarkin had grown impatient with Minister Tua’s lack of results in ridding Lothal of its rebel problem.” Kallus replied. “He’d summoned her for a meeting on Coruscant, which, as it should have, made Minister Tua fearful. A private meeting with the Governor to discuss matters that displease him rarely ends well for those summoned.”

Hentz leaned forward. “Tua feared for her life?”

“That would be fair to assume,” Kallus answered. “If I had been in her position, I would have.”

“So, she reached out to the rebels for aid? But, I assume, you’d known, with as frightened and desperate as she was, that she would do just that.” Hentz’s mouth strained as if she was holding back a smile, but she couldn’t hide the delight sparkling in her eyes. Her questions were most certainly striking as she hoped they would.

Kallus nodded. “Vader suspected Minister Tua would try to flee. Her only option to do so was to contact the rebels and beg for help. I was instructed to monitor Tua and report my findings to Vader.”

“Which you did?” The corners of Hentz’s mouth turned up ever so slightly.

“Yes, I obeyed my orders.” Kallus answered. “Minister Tua was inept at maintaining any kind of secrecy. I was easily able to get a recording of her conversation with the rebels.”

For the briefest of moments, Hentz’s expression slipped. Her jaw clenched and a flash of annoyance crossed her face. Like any good interrogator, Kallus knew she desired confessions not excuses, and obeying orders rode a very thin line between being a confession or an excuse.

“What did Vader order you to do then?” Hentz asked, dryly.

Kallus drew in a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. Looking back, with his newfound rebel perspective, there was much he regretted over his Imperial career, but there were a handful of his actions that, he felt, were perhaps beyond any form of redemption. This was one of those.

“Minister Tua was going to defect, and, under no circumstance was I to let her.” Kallus forced the words out–the tightness in his throat threatening to cut them off. “Just as Vader ordered, I rigged her shuttle with explosives and, when she tried to escape with the rebels, I ended her.”

She had been a terrified, simple woman, thrust into a position that was impossible for her to succeed at with her background. Tua hadn’t deserved her fate. He had known her. On Lothal, he had worked with her and listened to her idle banter. She had chattered on about restaurants and festivals and how the locals were fairing under whatever new policy the Empire had released at the time. If her life hadn’t been threatened, she would still be loyally working for the Empire, prattling away about whatever popped into her head, but, instead, he had killed her.

“It’s a good thing for you that no one as diligent as yourself was around to witness you defecting from the Empire,” Hentz quipped.

Kallus grimaced. It was an extra jagged truth that he hadn’t needed at the moment, but she wasn’t wrong.

“Answers to questions are what we seek,” Fae Saas cautiously warned Hentz. “Our comments are our own to keep until we deliberate.”

Hentz looked ready to reply to Fae Saas, but the steely gazes she received from the other panel members must have changed her mind. Instead, she turned back to Kallus.

“And after Minister Tua was killed in that fiery blast, which you blamed on the Rebellion, what happened to Tarkintown?” 

Kallus dredged up the memory of that day – wailing children, screaming parents, the blinding smoke and searing heat.

“The people were taken prisoner and the town was burned to the ground,” he answered.

“Why?” Hentz asked. “Were they all rebel sympathizers?” 

Kallus shrugged. “Perhaps, but mainly it was because Vader wished to strike a blow to the rebels in the system. He wanted to turn their compassion for the locals into his weapon.”

“Thank you,” Hentz returned in a low, pleased tone. “That was most enlightening, but, perhaps,” her grin widened, eyes fixed on Julia, “we should take a meal break now?”

“Yes,” Julia answered firmly. “We should.” She motioned to Kallus, signaling him to follow, and then she turned heel and burst out of the room. The rest of the panel members looked as surprised as Kallus felt.

Grabbing the datapad Julia had given him earlier, he scrambled after her. It was most certainly not what he would have considered a dignified exit.

Julia led him to his room, but she didn’t enter. Alone, Kallus sat on his cot, waiting, knowing, even though she hadn’t communicated as much, the old woman would return with their meals. 

His thoughts drifted back to the day’s testimony, but he found it too bleak to dwell on, so he turned his ponderings to the incommunicado members of the Ghost crew. He shifted through his knowledge on the Mandalorians and their dealings with the Empire, but nothing useful was surfacing. 

Breaking Kallus from his thoughts, Julia reappeared with two meal trays. Each had pasta with an odd assortment of vegetables Kallus had never seen before. They were probably native to Yavin IV.

His stomach gave an angry rumble as he took his tray from Julia. It was only then, as the aroma of the food hit him, that he realized how hungry he was.

He picked through his dish, selecting a slice of each vegetable and tasting them one by one. The yellow, fleshy cuts had little flavor, but the texture was interesting. It was crisp and juicy with a satisfying crunch. The purple skinned bits were mildly sweet but were a touch slimy, and the green slivers of vegetable were disappointingly tart. Perhaps they weren’t quite ripe?

“Stop playing with your food,” Julia grumbled. There was a weary, maternally quality to her voice as she sat down beside him. “Just eat it.”

The chastising probably should have been a blow to his ego, but, after almost two days of admitting to his shameful roles in the Empire, Kallus found himself feeling too stripped of his former pride to be offended. It was actually sort of freeing. 

Still, Julia’s comment had sounded off. He studied her a moment, surprised to find her staring blankly at her dish, obviously lost in thought. 

“Are you upset about something in particular, other than my dining habits?” he asked, trying and, apparently, failing to lighten the mood. He’d presumed Julia’s irritation had something to do with the rivalry that seemed to stir between herself and Tadia Hentz.

Her gaze snapped over to him. The intensity of her stare was harsh and startling, and Kallus had to fight to keep himself from looking away.

“Do you really want to provide the Rebellion with all the help you are able to?” She asked, her tone stern, almost cold.

Dumbfounded by the sudden hostility, Kallus stared openmouthed at Julia for a few moments before he could gather his wits about him.

“Of course I do,” he snapped. “While else would I be here? I had a choice and I chose to help the rebels. I didn’t have to...”

“Yes!” Julia exclaimed, eyes sparkling, grin slowly growing. “There is the man the panel needs to see. This is what you’ve been missing in court. You are a rebel now, and so you must learn that rebels never gives up, but, Kallus, it seems you’ve stopped fighting for yourself. I understand your guilt, and even if you don’t wish to fight for yourself, fight for what you will be able to accomplish working in the field for the Rebellion, because that is where you will do the greatest good.”

Then, she turned to her meal and began furiously stabbing at the vegetables with her fork. She’d already taken two hefty bites before Kallus found his voice.

“Why are you so certain I won’t turn on the rebels? You’ve heard what I’ve done while working with the Empire. How can you be so quick to forgive that?”

She turned to him, a small strained smile on her face. “Because,” she whispered. “I’ve done a lot worse for the Empire.”

There was a fire in her gaze, a challenge for him to ask about her past. He was sure she would tell him, that she wouldn’t hold back, but he could already see the truth written in her expression. He could ask, but, ultimately, he chose not to. Whatever she had done, she truly believed her sins outweighed his own.

“I know what it’s like,” she continued, “to suddenly realize everything you believed to be noble was twisted and wrong, that you’d been ignoring the oblivious and slowly allowing yourself to do more and more horrific things in the name of the Empire.” She paused, her gaze going distant. “I recall the growing thirst for power, and how those above me ruled by inflicting fear. After enough time, you couldn’t just feel the darkness–you were a part of it.” 

Kallus felt a shiver run up his spine as he listened. She’d described it all too well. He was certain that she spoke the truth. 

She looked back at him and smiled. “When I came to the rebels’ side, I was as you are now. Lost, confused and sure that I would find no redemption, but I vowed to fight as hard as I could for the Rebellion, and, by some miracle, they let me.”

An easy silence fell over them. Kallus needed time to process this new information, and, for her part, Julia seemed to understand that need. 

“So, is that why you’ve been helping me?” he asked at last.

She sighed heavily “Partially, but I would not have put so much effort into you had I not believed you’d seen the light. Also, I’m fulfilling a promise to a dear friend.”

_Promise?_ Kallus didn’t even attempt to hide his confusion as he stared at Julia.

“In due time, you will see, but, until then,” she grinned back at him, “eat your food. You’ll need your strength, my rebel friend. It’s time for you to show the panel what your intentions are for the future.”


	9. Chapter 9

The panel reconvened, but Julia did not take her seat at the back of the room. Instead, a seventh chair had been positioned at the front table for her. Noting Hera and Zeb’s lack of surprise, Kallus could only assume they had already been made aware of the elder woman’s role on the panel.

“I believe,” Julia said, smile in place, eyes set on Kallus, “the panel would like to hear from Orrelios Garazeb. He has much to tell us about a certain Geonosis moon.”

Zeb shifted in his seat, his expression guarded, and Kallus had to wonder how the Lasat would choose to describe their time stranded together. It would, after all, be hard to justify defending someone who’d just freely admitted to so many atrocities. 

After a brief hesitation, Zeb spoke of his encounter with Kallus on the Imperial construction module in orbit around Geonosis. He explained how Kallus followed him to the escape pod, and how their fight within the pod, after its launch, had damaged the navigation system–causing them to crash land in an ice cavern on the Geonosis moon. Briefly, he mentioned Kallus’ injured leg and how he’d easily had the upper hand over the agent, but fighting when his opponent was at an obvious disadvantage would have been dishonorable. 

The story felt detached and practiced, as if the Lasat had repetitively rehearsed in preparation. 

Admittedly, it stung to hear Zeb so dispassionately speak of their time together on the ice moon, but, perhaps, Kallus considered, he’d seen a comradeship where Zeb had not. The hurt that lone musing brought surprised him immensely.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Kallus noticed the courtroom was silent. Looking up, he found the Lasat studying him. Kallus straightened, realizing he’d been slouching, gazing absently at his own interlaced hands resting on the table before him. 

For a moment, the two just stared at each other. Kallus could feel Zeb assessing him, gauging him. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Garazeb’s expression softened. 

Garazeb began his story again, but the words were no longer planned and polished. He fumbled through his thoughts, expressing them in a jumbled mess, but there was emotion. 

He spoke of the bitter cold and the glowing meteorite they used for warmth, and how they had discussed both Lasan and Onderon. Zeb’s voice was gravelly but steady as he told of how they had stopped bickering and listened to each other, took the time to hear of past pain and regret. Kallus had apologized for what had happened on Lasan, stating that it wasn’t supposed to have been a massacre, and Zeb, for his part, believed him. 

Zeb assured the panel that only by working together had they been able to escape from the bowels of the ice cave and the ravenous, Bonzami dwelling there, and, once free of the layers of ice, they were able to radio for help. 

“The Ghost crew received the distress signal and was the first to arrive, but, why didn’t you take Kallus as a prisoner?” Julia questioned Zeb. “Why leave him alone, possibly to die, on the ice moon? You denied the Rebellion a great resource by not taking him captive.”

A protective twinge arose in Kallus. This was his trial. Julia had no right to put Zeb on the spot. The Lasat was not there to be judged. 

“There was nothing lost because of my choice,” Zeb replied gruffly. “We could have taken Kallus then, but I doubt he would’ve told us anything. Instead, I let him decided his fate. He’d earned that, and, in the end, he supported the Rebellion far more as a free man than as a captive.”

Julia nodded, “Thank you Orrelios Garazeb. That was all I wished to ask you.”

Letting out a low huff, Zeb leaned back in his chair before he looked to Kallus and gave a tentative smile. 

For his part, Kallus returned the smile but faltered as he caught sight of Hera. She was studying Zeb, as if uncertainty plagued her, as if she were questioning his defense of Kallus. 

“Hearing of your time on the ice moon with Orrelios Garazeb was most enlightening,” Fae Saas said, taking over the questioning, “But I still cannot clearly see your path from that ice moon to where you sit now. Tell me, how _exactly_ did you become a Fulcrum agent?”

“It was…complicated,” Kallus frowned. “Not long after Zeb and I escaped from the ice moon, I was contacted by an agent of Fulcrum.”

“Why?” The Mon Calamari asked. “Even you can admit that such contact would deem too great a risk, so why would they contact you?”

Kallus shrugged. “They had apparently heard how Garazeb and I had worked together on the Geonosis moon, and they hoped that meant I had a change of heart about the Rebellion.”

“Had you?”

“Not exactly,” he replied, “but, after my time with Garazeb, I was considerably more open to listening to what this agent had to say – without immediately reporting them to the Empire.” 

“And, what did this agent of Fulcrum want?” Fae asked.

“They had an operative cornered in a Lothal mining operation and needed to get them offplanet. Having exhausted all other options, I was their last resort.” 

“So,” Fae started, her large eyes scanning him carefully, “you agreed to aid in this rescue, but why? Were you planning on trying to capture the Fulcrum agent?”

“It had crossed my mind,” Kallus answered. “Their transmission could not be traced with any accuracy. So, if I wanted to either join or attempt to capture this agent, my best option was to assist in the rescue.”

Fae gave a faint scowl, her features oddly contorting in confusion. “As you joined that mission to rescue the operative, your loyalties were undecided?”

Kallus nodded. The capture of the Fulcrum agent certainly would have been a boon to his military career, but he couldn’t deny wanting to escape the coldness he felt in his rank in the Empire. He found himself longing for those more personal attachments he’d afforded himself in his youth – the sort of attachments that seemed plentiful in the Rebellion. 

“Tell me,” Fae Saas said, “about this mission.”

“It had been simple enough,” Kallus began, his thoughts wandering back to that day. “I had gone to the mine on Lothal and found the operative. They were disguised as a Stormtrooper but couldn’t get around checkpoints without raising suspicion. By taking the operative on as my escort as I inspected the facilities, I was easily able to get them past the checkpoints and onto my private shuttle. From there, under the guise that I had personal business to attend to on Coruscant, we proceeded to our rendezvous with a rebel ship.”

Fae Saas gave a thoughtful little hum, as if contemplating Kallus’ story. “And you went by yourself to meet with these rebels? How did you know they wouldn’t take you prisoner?”

“I did not know.” It had been a gamble, but Kallus had felt it was well worth the intel he could gather in that one encounter. “Since Garazeb did not take me prisoner on the ice moon, I decided to place some trust in this Fulcrum agent, but I still came armed.”

“You returned the operative and met with the agent,” Fae said, “but we don’t have any data on this meeting. Can we assume this encounter was when you agreed to join Fulcrum?”

“No, not right then,” Kallus replied. “I was offered the chance, but I turned it down. I was given contact information, in case I reconsidered.”

“I do not understand.” Fae muttered. “You were trusted with Fulcrum contact information, given the opportunity to feed the Rebellion false information, and you simply returned to your Imperial duty but made no report of this rebel activity to your superiors in the Empire. I find myself wondering why this Fulcrum agent trusted you so, and why you chose to hold on to this information and finally join the ranks of Fulcrum when you did.”

Kallus considered what the Mon Calamari had said. He could understand how his decision to join the Rebellion seemed rather convoluted. Quite frankly, he was still a bit baffled as to how he came to the decision he had. His time with Garazeb on the Geonosis moon had started him down the path, but that had just been the start. There was someone else who’d pushed him over the edge.

He looked to Julia, suspecting they had a common ally – someone who was fond of holding people to their word.

The mischievous smile on the old woman’s face was all the answer Kallus needed.

Brusquely, Julia motioned for a guard to step forward, and she handed something to him. “Perhaps this holo recording will answer a few of your questions, Saas.” 

None of the panel members protested as the guard loaded the holo chip, although Tadia Hentz cast a blistering glare in Julia’s direction.

The holo image flickered, distorted at first, but then the unmistakable figure emerged. 

Standing tall, firm, the holo of Asoka Tano faced the panel. 

“I have just met with Agent Kallus.” Ahsoka smiled softly. “He returned an operative to me today. I spoke with Kallus for a long while. I sensed in him a desire to do good, and I believe he’d work harder for our cause than we could have ever imagined–than even he could imagine.” She paused, smile fading, sadness marring her face. “During his time with the Empire, he has done terrible things, and I sense his shame and grief mounting as his awareness of those wrongs grows. The dark side had a hold of him for so long, but I have to believe there is hope for one to escape that darkness…no matter how far they’ve fallen into it. There has to be hope.” Ahsoka’s gaze scanned the room, as if she could see everyone there. “I sense something coming, something that, I fear, will cause the Rebellion to lose me. If that is the case, we will need skilled rebel agents to fill in the void of my departure. Though he has yet to agree to take the title of Fulcrum, I believe Kallus will become a vital part of our Rebellion if we give him the chance.”

Abruptly, the image cut out. The guard stepped forward, retrieved the holo chip and gave it back to Julia. With the exception of the lone guard, everyone kept still, silent.

“The agent you met with was Ahsoka Tano?” Fae Saas asked at last. “Why did you not tell us this?”

Kallus left the question unanswered, uncertain he could give a satisfactory response. He knew mentioning Ahsoka would have worked in his favor, but there had been too much of their meeting Kallus had been asked to hold in confidence. 

He’d found it humorous at the time that someone so respected in the Rebellion was asking an ISB agent to keep her secrets, but, as he listened, as he found himself willingly answering her questions, he knew he would not betray her. 

Ahsoka had a calmness about her, an air of tranquility, and, once he allowed himself to listen, to stop viewing her as a rebel combatant or threat, Kallus felt his own overwhelming anger, fear and guilt still. 

They had talked for hours. She tried to persuade him to join the Rebellion, but he would not consent so quickly. It was too large of a decision to make lightly. She had been disappointed but said she understood.

Then, Ahsoka had started to speak of her hopes, dreams and fears. Eventually, she’d maneuvered the conversation so that Kallus was telling his as well. It could have been a Jedi mind trick, but he found that he didn’t care if it was. It had been pleasant to talk so freely, to speak his mind without fear or anger clouding his words. 

They talked for length about the Empire. Ultimately though, Ahsoka’s questions revolved around one man. She had many questions about Vader… 

Fae cleared her throat, calling Kallus’ attention back to her. “When did you begin transmitting as Fulcrum?” She asked, clearly understanding her other questions would receive no answer.

“After I heard of what happened on Malachor. The reports indicated that Ahsoka had been killed, but,” he paused, feeling a sad smile forming, “there have been many false reports of rebel deaths in the past. It wasn’t until I noted the decline in the Rebellion’s precision attacks, in supply raids, that I felt certain Ahsoka and her intelligence gathering skills were truly lost to your cause.” 

“So,” Fae’s voice softened. “You began your transmissions.” 

“It was minor information at first,” he replied. “I still hadn’t convinced myself that I could make the leap from Imperial to rebel, but Garazeb had challenged me to search for answers behind the Empire’s actions, and what I found…” He trailed off and then looked up to meet the Mon Calamari’s gaze. “I made my choice, and I’m here now.”

“You were the one who sent the information about the cadets at the Imperial Skystrike Academy who wished to defect?” Stromgald Sypikne questioned, and then looked to Fae Saas for her approval. Obviously the man had spoken out of turn, but the Mon Calamari gave a faint smile and nodded. 

“Yes,” Kallus answered, as he braced himself for the Sypikne’s candid, direct line of questioning. “I’d hoped the rebels would be able to get them out before the investigation began, but that was not the case.”

“During the investigation,” Stromgald said, “you noticed Sabine Wren amongst the cadets, and then you aided Sabine and the defecting cadets in their escape of the facility?”

“I only bought them some time and gave Sabine a little information on the safest route to take, she did the rest.” 

Picking up his datapad, Stromgald silently read over some information, his hand absentmindedly rubbing at his stubbled chin. 

“And, on another occasion,” Stromgald began, “you informed us of the new weapon being built at the Imperial Armory Complex on Lothal. Later, you helped Ezra Bridger and Kanan Jarrus escape from the complex with the plans for the new Starfighter, correct?”

“Yes, it was…” Kallus went silent as he noted the green light flashing on the holoprojector – indicating an incoming transmission. 

Quickly, a guard was up to answer it and the blue holo image flickered into view. It was Ezra.

Hera was instantly on her feet, her chair loudly scrapping against the floor. “Where are Sabine and Kanan?” She demanded, earning herself a glare from several panel members.

“Not here,” Ezra answered, fidgeting slightly, “but they’re safe. We’ve just been…uh….really busy. So, I don’t have a lot of time – sorry.”

Jaw clenched, eyes fixed on Ezra, Hera hesitantly sat down. Kallus could tell the Twi’lek wanted to ask more, that she couldn’t contain her worry, but Tomas Dryer spoke first.

“Thank you for contacting us,” Dryer replied, his one good eye watching Hera’s reaction. Seemingly satisfied that the Twi’lek would not have another outburst, he continued. “We understand your situation and know it was probably very difficult to find the time to answer our questions.”

“But it is important,” Ezra answered.

Kallus studied the young man a moment, impressed at how far he’d come. He held himself like a Jedi now, standing tall and firm but with no feel of threat or arrogance. Kanan had done well. 

“Could you tell us about your mission to extract Kallus?” Dryer asked.

Ezra gave a faint nod. “We’d learned that Kallus’ Fulcrum transmissions were being monitored by the Empire. They knew of a spy presence and, in a matter of time, would find him. So I disguised myself and stole a shuttle, hoping to get captured and make contact with Kallus. AP-5 and Chopper came with me. They posed as droids that had been taken with the stolen shuttle.”

“A risky endeavor,” Tomas mused, “and not one that went according to plan, correct?” 

“I was transferred to the Chimaera, Grand Admiral Thrawn’s ship, but, fortunately, I hadn’t been recognized, and Kallus obtained Lieutenant Yogar Lyste’s code cylinder so he was able to move more freely around the ship without detection. He was then able to free me.”

“And what did you do then?”

Ezra sighed. “I wanted to get off the Chimaera as fast as possible, but Kallus said that Thrawn had a star chart with potential planet locations of our rebel base, and the Grand Admiral was rapidly narrowing the search. It was only a matter of time before he’d find us.”

“So, Kallus convinced you to go to this chart and show him where our rebel base was? Did that not seem suspicious to you?”

“I’m not going to lie, I really wasn’t sure if I could trust him. I mean, there were a lot of lives at stake and we haven’t exactly always had a great history with Kallus.” Ezra glanced up, giving a small apologetic shrug. “But, when we got to Thrawn’s office and I saw the chart, Kallus was right. It was only a matter of time before Chopper base would be found. I didn’t have a lot of options but to trust him.”

“You altered the star chart and then proceeded to the shuttle bay to escape. Kannan and Rex were to be waiting?”

Ezra nodded. “Yeah, we made it to the shuttle bay. Kallus had somehow managed to convince Lieutenant Lyste that Pryce was the rebel spy, so as she tried to capture Kanan and Rex, who were disguised as Stormtroopers, Lyste mistakenly thought she was attacking actual troopers. Lyste took Pryce down in front of a full Imperial audience, and, in the guise of helping Pryce, Kallus was able to get close enough to slip Lyste’s code cylinder back into the Lieutenant’s pocket.”

“So, Lyste was implicated as the rebel spy? Is that why Kallus stayed behind?”

“He said he could do more good for us from within the Empire.”

“Did you believe him?”

“Yes,” Ezra replied, no hesitation. “I could feel his determination, his hope, but…” He paused, brow furrowing. “There was loss too. It was like he knew that was probably his last chance to get away from the Empire. I could feel that loss grow as our shuttle pulled away.”

“Do you think that…” Dryer went silent as Ezra’s attention snapped away to something out of the projector’s range.

“They’re where?” Ezra’s voice was raised, but far from panicked. “Tell them we are on our way.” He turned back to face the panel. “I’ve got to go. Things have…uh….come up.”

“Ezra,” Hera’s tone was commanding, demanding answers.

The young man looked to Hera, a tight smile in place. “Everything will be fine. We’ve got this.” He turned, bending over, as if to cut the transmission, but then he paused. “I wasn’t sure about Kallus at first. I really didn’t think we could trust him. There had been too many times he’d put me and the rest of my crew in danger. He’d hunted us and found any way he could to make our lives miserable.” Ezra looked up, eyes scanning the panel members. “And then he changed. It was hard to believe at first, but he kept helping us, feeding us information. There were so many times he could have betrayed us, gotten the upper hand, but he didn’t.” Ezra took a deep breath, face set in determination. “I didn’t realize at first what Kallus’ defection meant, but, as I thought about it more, I found a new hope. We’ve had people defect from the Empire before, but few so high in rank. What we decide now with Kallus sets the tone for other high ranking members of the Empire who wish to leave.”

Without another word, Ezra bent down and fiddled with something and the holo imaged flickered off. 

Kallus sat, feeling slightly dazed. He’d not expected Ezra to so deftly defend him. 

Then, Rin Proga asked him to tell them of his capture, of how Chopper Base was discovered, and of his escape.

Kallus started with how he’d spied on Thrawn’s meeting with Pryce, and how he’d found out they knew about the upcoming attack on Lothal. Leaving nothing out, he kept taking until he was telling them of how the Ghost had latched on to his escape pod. Much to his embarrassment, Julia mentioned there was a medical report on his injuries from his capture that everyone had access to on their datapads, and everyone was silent for a few moments as they studied the report. 

“So, looking back, do you think you should have left with Bridger when he came to extract you?” Tadia Hentz asked.

Kallus considered the question, allowing himself the time to plot the chain of events that would have unfolded had he gone with Ezra. 

“I did underestimate Thrawn,” he said at last. “That was a mistake, but whether I went with Ezra when he came to extract me or I stayed, the Empire would have cornered the Rebellion fleet. Perhaps Chopper Base would have been hidden for a while longer, but the attack on Lothal would have been a devastating loss for the rebels. I stayed because I thought it was where I could best help the Rebellion and…” He paused, swallowing hard, trying to ease the tension building in his throat. “…I was afraid. I did not think I would find a place amongst the rebels. I did not think you would accept me. I felt it was better to use up all the resources I had, and, when the time came, the Empire would end me as I had ended lives for it.”

Kallus allowed himself a deep sigh. It was all out now. He had no more to say. Mentally and physically, he felt drained. 

“I believe we are done,” Julia announced, “Kallus, the guards will take you back to your room while we deliberate. Zeb, you are excused to leave, and, Hera, please stay. We would like to have a few words with you.”

The urge to question why Hera was to stay arose in Kallus, but, as one of the guards settled a hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to rise and follow, he decided to remain quiet. He no longer had a say in what was to take place. His only role now was to wait and accept whatever outcome the panel decided upon. 

He stood up and followed the guards, allowing himself one glance back at Hera and Zeb. They were talking, but their voices were lost amongst the chatter coming from the panel members. Neither looked over as Kallus exited the courtroom.

The walk back to his room felt longer than before. When they arrived, one of the guards offered to fetch Kallus’ meal, but he declined. He was not hungry. He only wanted to lie down, close his eyes and drift into a blissful abyss. 

Surprisingly, sleep came to him quickly, and it was hard to shake off when, hours later, one of the guards woke him. Groggy, Kallus blinked, staring up at the young man.

The guard looked tired but was otherwise keeping an impassive expression. “They’re ready for you.” 

Kallus nodded and stood, ready to follow, ready to find out what his fate would be.


	10. Chapter 10

The guards escorted Kallus to the courtroom, but they did not enter. 

Alone, he proceeded, hesitating briefly as he found the table and seat that had been in the middle of the room were gone. The seven panel members watched him quietly, giving no instruction. 

Pulse racing, Kallus made his way to the center of the room, standing where he had been positioned throughout the sessions. Clearly, the panel did not think stating their verdict would take long if they had his seat removed. 

Apprehension gnawing at him, he scanned the faces of each person before him, but their impassive expressions gave no hint of what was to come. 

It was a good sign though, Kallus concluded, that there were no guards posted in the room. That meant the panel didn’t think their decision would prompt an outburst from him, or they considered themselves more than capable of subduing him on their own if he grew disruptive. 

He eyed Tomas Dryer and Stromgald Sypikne and felt his stomach drop. Both battle-hardened soldiers wore blasters at their sides. They had been without those weapons during the questioning.  
Perhaps the outcome wasn’t going to be in his favor.

“Our deliberation,” Julia said, her voice filling the room, “was arduous.”

“We did not reach our decision lightly,” Tadia Hentz added, “or without heavy debate.” 

Stromgald leaned forward, steely gaze fixed on Kallus. “Young Bridger made a good argument about our decision setting the tone for other high ranking defectors from the Empire.”

“And,” Rin Proga chimed in. “It speaks volumes for your character that Garazeb Orrelios considers you an ally – even after your history on Lasan.” 

Tril Treep nodded. “Having Ahsoka vouch for you, along with the all work you did as Fulcrum was impressive.”

“However,” Fae Saas’ dour tone had Kallus bracing for what was to come. “Your endeavors within the Empire during your Imperial career have been both extensive and extreme. We cannot, at this time, grant you a pardon from your wrongdoings.”

The definitive decision that a pardon would not be granted sent a wave of despair through Kallus, even though he had previously harbored little hope of such a verdict. Serving the Rebellion from the field seemed too distant a fate now. Rationally, he knew he was too valuable a commodity to execute, so his most probable punishment would be imprisonment. 

Standing there, waiting for his fate to be revealed, he found himself wondering where Hera, Rex and Zeb were. He hoped they had been allowed to leave the planet – to go help Sabine, Kanan and Ezra, but amongst that thought there was a seed of wretchedness, a sense of abandonment. He pushed that aside, chastising himself for even remotely believing the Ghost crew owed him any loyalty.

“You’ve expressed a desire to work for the Rebellion, possibly join its ranks, correct?” Julia asked.

Kallus blinked, the question catching him off-guard. “Yes. It is.”

“Then,” she smiled, “we withhold our verdict, calling for a new trial at the end of your service to the Rebellion. You may serve, rising to whatever rank you so may achieve, but, when you chose to leave or are dismissed from the Rebellion, you will be judged for your past crimes.” 

“Lieutenant Kallus,” Fae placed a heavy emphasis on the new rank. “Whatever triumphs you are able to gain for the Rebellion during your service will undoubtedly sway your final verdict.”

“But know,” Tadia added sternly, “this is no mercy. Your past will hang over you your entire time amongst us. Every action you take will be measured and weighed, and if you dare betray the Rebellion, if you are discovered aiding the Empire and found guilty, you will be put to death.”

“Throughout your service,” Julia said, “we, or another appointed panel, will keep tabs on you. When needed, whatever panel presides over you will call you in for evaluations.” She paused a moment, as if giving Kallus time to soak in the information. “The panel’s first inclination was not to let you serve in the field, but you have a rather strong advocate who has agreed to take responsibility for you.”

“Plus,” Stromgald added. “We can appreciate the merit in getting you out and seen by members of the Empire. Your actions in the field may inspire more defectors.”

“It will not be easy.” Tril Treep’s voice was low and tinged with honest concern. “The Empire has given extensive orders to have you killed on sight. It would be better for you if you stayed in hiding, but better for the Rebellion to have you be seen.”

“I’ll manage,” Kallus answered, unable to hold back the hint of a smile that crept onto his face. “I look forward to serving the Rebellion.”

Behind him, a door creaked and footsteps sounded. He turned and was surprised to find Hera entering the courtroom. Looking absolutely exhausted, the Twi’lek strode up to stand beside Kallus.

“Captain Syndulla,” Julia greeted, “Your timing is perfect. We are done. You may take your new crew member.”

 _New crew member?_ A sense of elation overtook Kallus. He had given up hoping to be a part of the Ghost crew, but now…

He turned to Hera, trying to contain his gladness, his gratitude, but what he saw shattered his contentment.

Every aspect of Hera’s stance appeared tense. Arms folded, body turned slightly away from Kallus, it felt as if she were purposefully trying not to look at him. 

Faint scowl in place, eyes still averted, Hera sighed. “Come on. It’s late, and I’d like to get back to the ship before dawn.”

Kallus could detect the weariness in her voice, but there was also uncertainty, worry. He considered how she was risking so much to take him in. If he failed the Rebellion, she would suffer as well. Perhaps the entire crew of the Ghost would suffer. 

And, with the Empire so fiercely intent on hunting him down, Kallus would only make the Ghost even more of a target. He’d desired to be on the ship, but was it worth the cost?

Kallus spoke up, and Hera, who’d already started toward the door, halted.

“Thank you, Captain Syndulla, but you don’t have to do this. I don’t want to put your crew in any more peril than need be, and I know my presence would only cause more hardships.” He paused as she turned to face him, to meet his gaze, and he forced a weak smile. “This gesture alone meant a lot. Thank you.”

Hera arched a brow, giving Kallus a scrutinizing stare before she slowly turned to face the panel. The Twi’lek and Julia exchanged a look. An unspoken understanding seemed to pass between the two, and some of the tension eased from Hera’s stance. 

The rest of the panel members shifted in their seats. They had certainly already verified, perhaps repeatedly, with Hera that she would take Kallus, but, judging from their reaction now, they must have had some doubt in her desire to do so.

“Well,” Hera replied, eyes still on Julia, “I didn’t think I’d have to pull rank this early.” She turned to Kallus. “I’m giving you a direct order. Come with me.”

With that, she turned and exited the room.

Stunned, Kallus stood staring at the door a moment before he looked to Julia.

The old woman grinned. “Lieutenant, your Captain gave you a direct order. You don’t want to get marked with insubordination already, do you?”

He opened his mouth, ready to explain how he wasn’t prepared to burden the Ghost, but Julia made a swift motion, pointing at the door.

Mischievous grin in place, she thundered out one lone word. “Go!” 

Her tone had him reacting, moving out of the room as his thoughts scrambled to catch up. Her sway over him felt both foreign and familiar all at once. It was nothing like the fear or blind, ground in obedience the Empire commanded. Though forceful, there was affection and concern in her voice, as if she was pushing him on more for his sake than for anything else. A vague memory of family, of feeling that love and concern once long ago surfaced. 

“Hey!” 

At the sound of Hera’s voice, Kallus glanced around, realizing he’d started wandering aimlessly down the hall. Turning, he found the Twi’lek behind him at the opposite side of long corridor.

“This way,” Hera called. “Follow me.”

She didn’t wait for a reply before setting off. Kallus followed. 

Every turn she took, he was barely able get to and spot her next move before she disappeared from sight again. It was not purposeful though. He could sense her weary determination. She’d probably been up all night and was ready to drop. Kallus could only assume her only goal was not to do so in a random hallway. He couldn’t fault her for that.

Suddenly, he found himself outside in the cool night air. Already on the horizon the sky was letting the darkness ease, and Kallus stared at the delicate violet color in the distance that hinted of a coming dawn. Small dark winged creatures danced in the air above, so swift that he could see only catch brief glimpses of them. 

“Do you need a moment to rest?”

Kallus jumped, startled to find Hera beside him. “No…uh…I’m fine, just looking.” He mumbled, feeling stupid for prolonging their trip back to the ship. 

“You’re still limping when you walk.” Hera stated, eyeing his leg.

Kallus frowned. He hadn’t realized the limp was that noticeable. “It’s fine. I should have stretched it more during the proceedings. My knee just gets stiff.” 

Hera seemed to contemplate that a moment before she turned and started off again, but she stopped after only a couple of steps. 

“I need time,” she said. 

_Need time?_ Confused, Kallus tried to decipher her meaning, but he found too much uncertainty in his guesses. 

Hera faced him, but kept her distance. “The others – Ezra, Rex, Kanan, Chopper….and even Zeb have found ways to find their peace with you and your past. They might not be finished resolving all their issues with you, but they’ve accepted you and they trust you.” She took a moment to draw in a sharp breath. “My instincts are telling me to take you in, that you should be a part of our crew, and my instincts have served me well. But, I cannot ignore the persistent warning flashing in my head as well. You’ve hurt my crew in the past. You’ve made my crew suffer, and that…I cannot easily overlook that fact.”

Kallus wanted to respond, to find a way to give Hera some reassurance, but there were no words he could supply to do so. He knew only his actions from this point forward could ease Hera’s concerns.

“In court, hearing of your time in the Empire,” Hera continued, her tone soft, low, “added to my worry of how dangerous you could be to the Ghost. But then, taking into account your work as Fulcrum, the words of Ahsoka, and your time with Zeb on the ice moon…I made my decision and I stand by it.” Her fiery green eyes seemed to be searching him, gauging his reactions. “You are a part of my crew now, and my crew will always be under my protection. My conflict lies in feeling a duty to protect you and still harboring a fear that you will be the undoing of the rest of my crew. I truly believe you are trying to change, but I cannot help what my feelings are, and I cannot ignore them. I just need time to find the acceptance and trust that the others have already found.”

“I understand,” he replied, and he did. 

He appreciated how straight forth Hera was. Clarifying her uncertainty, her fear of his possible betrayal might have left him feeling dejected, but he could tell that her only intent had been to inform him of why there would be tension or awkwardness in their early interactions upon the ship. Not only was she explaining why this could happen, but she was acknowledging that she had an element of change that she needed to undergo. Eventually, she would learn to trust him fully – Kallus would work hard to make that happen.

Hera gave him a soft, sad smile before she turned and started trudging onward. Silently, he followed, lost in his thoughts.

Making their way through the shipyard, Kallus took little notice of their surroundings. His body and mind were craving sleep too heavily for him to focus clearly. Still, he hadn’t missed the small group of rebels diligently working on a freighter. It was hard not to notice those up and about when all the rest of the world seemed asleep. Plus, he caught the quiet phrase ‘Butcher of Lasan’ whispered amongst them.

He cringed at that. 

The panel had been correct. His actions in the Empire would follow him throughout his service with the Rebellion. Everything he did would be weighed against or with his past wrongdoing for the Empire, but it wouldn’t be just a single panel judging him – every rebel would. A part of him almost regretted that the panel hadn’t handed him down a punishment. It would have been at least something he could have tried to use to shield himself from the intense scrutiny. 

As they reached the Ghost, only Chopper was there to greet them. Kallus suspected both Zeb and Rex were asleep.

The little droid gave a melodic string of chirps and beeps as it circled Kallus a few times. 

“Thank you Chopper,” Kallus laughed, finding that he couldn’t hold back his amusement, “I don’t think anyone has ever given me such a warm welcoming before.”

Taking note of the peculiar sideways glance Hera was giving him, Kallus cast a questioning look in her direction, but she merely shrugged and turned away.

“You’ll bunk in Kanan’s room until we work out another setup.” She said, walking up the ramp. “I was able to contact him a few hours ago, and he said he wanted to be able to keep an eye on you, help you adjust to the crew once we all meet back up.”

With Hera’s future hanging on Kallus’ actions, he wasn’t surprised the Jedi wanted to keep close tabs on him. 

From the top of the ramp, Hera placed her hands on her hips and stared down at Kallus. “Don’t leave the Ghost without an escort – preferably someone from our crew, and you aren’t to carry any form of weapon while we’re on Yavin IV. I don’t want to give anyone a reason to blast you.” Her gaze flashed to the C1 unit. “Chopper will show you to your cabin. Oh, and Kallus…” She paused, letting a small tight smile form, “welcome to the crew.”

“Thank you,” he answered, and she gave a faint nod before turning and making her way into the Ghost.

He watched her go, wanting to take a moment to himself to look at the ship that was to be his home. Unfortunately, his brief solitude was not to last. Something rammed into the back of Kallus. Trying to stay on his feet, he glanced back, seeing the Chopper struggling to herd him onward.

“Hey, easy now,” Kallus chuckled. “I’m going, okay? No more pushing.”

Chopper gave a stern, high pitched response before motioning Kallus to follow.

It hadn’t taken the droid long to guide him to his new, even if temporarily so, quarters. The C1 unit pointed out that the datapad left on the bunk was for Kallus to use reviewing reports, courtesy of Julia, and that one of Kanan’s drawers had been cleaned out and stocked with spare clothes for Kallus. 

He took a moment to examine his new wardrobe. It was all in muted tones of brown and green. Certainly not colors he was used to donning, but they weren’t bad. 

Chopper gave a warbled string of beeps and whirls and Kallus grinned.

“You picked these clothes out yourself? Well, I thank you then. You’ve chosen well.”

Chopper gave a quick, pleased response then wheeled for the door. After one last wave and the rather commanding suggestion to get some sleep, the droid left. 

Kallus made his way to the bunks. The datapad had been set on the lower bunk, but he felt wrong somehow in claiming that bed as his own. This cabin was Kanan’s and the blind Jedi had undoubtedly been using the lower bunk. 

Scooping up the datapad, Kallus carefully lofted himself onto the upper bunk, careful not to put too much pressure on his stiff knee as he did so.

It was an odd feeling, settling into the bed. After all, he hadn’t been in an upper bunk since the Academy. 

To keep his thoughts from wandering, he began perusing the reports on the datapad. He knew he was too tired to accurately review any one report, but he could read a few and get a feel for them.

At some point, sleep overtook him. It was a deep, peaceful slumber the likes of which he hadn’t had in a long time, and, for once, he woke not to ship alarms or to a set time, but he awoke gradually, letting his body and mind slowly chose when to stir.

Eventually, he sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Then, he’d almost fallen off the bunk before remembering where he was. Carefully, he lowered himself to the floor and made his way out of the cabin.  
He wasn’t sure of the time. With how rested he felt, it had to be well past breakfast. Making his way to the common room, he thought over how odd it was that he was strolling leisurely through the ship he had hunted for so long. 

Rex and Zeb were already in the common room when Kallus arrived.

“Good morning,” Rex greeted, warm smile in place. “We were starting to wonder if we should wake you for lunch. You slept right through breakfast.”

“Take a seat, Kal,” Zeb said, standing up, “I’ll get you some grub. I made a Mandalorian dish. Sabine taught me how to make it a while back. I had to make do with some substitute ingredients, but it’s not bad.”

 _Kal?_ Taking a seat at the table, Kallus smiled to himself. No one had called him Kal since his days at the Academy, and only his closest friends had used that nickname. It was nice to hear it again.

Zeb made his way to the galley and Rex gave a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, the meal’s not bad,” the clone whispered, “but I wouldn’t necessary call it good either. Sabine makes the dish way better.”

“I heard that!” Zeb shouted from the galley. “And you certainly weren’t complaining when you ate four helpings!”

Rex burst into a hearty laugh. “Well, an army moves on its stomach. Need to keep the old war machine fueled.”

Zeb returned, setting an interesting plate of meats and vegetables on the table. Kallus offered a quick thank you before taking a bite. Just as described, it was neither good nor bad. It was an unmemorable dish, slightly bland and not reminiscent of Mandalorian cuisine in the slightest, but it was filling and not unpleasant on the palate.

“I knew Hera would bring you back to be on the crew,” Zeb said, taking a seat beside Rex. “I mean, Chopper did threaten to mutiny if she didn’t.”

“Could you imagine that droid trying even harder to make our lives miserable?” Rex scoffed, “He shocked me the other day because he thought I looked at him funny, and I didn’t even know he was in the room!”

“Yeah,” Zeb chuckled, “I’m not sure if Kal should be happy or worried that the droid has taken such a liking to him.”

Suddenly, the common room doors opened and Chopper wheeled in. The droid sent a cascade of low angry beeps and whirls directed at the men.

“No,” Zeb answered gruffly, “we weren’t talking about you. Why do you think everything is about you? Egotistical little bucket of bolts, aren’t you?”

Chopper turned toward Kallus, his questioning tone softer, more imploring.

Swallowing down his most recent bite, Kallus shrugged. “Did you really shock Rex the other day for just looking at you?”

The C1 unit let out a high-pitched yell and extended an arm. Chopper sped forward, bolts of electricity snapped at the end of the droid’s outreached limb. 

Rex and Zeb were immediately up, scrambling over the table in their attempt to flee. Kallus was barely able to save his dish from toppling over. Vaguely, he wondered if he should move as well. Would the droid shock him? He wasn’t sure, but he decided to remain seated, letting the events fall as they would.

Chopper, however, only seemed hell bent on punishing Rex and Zeb, and as the little droid tore around the room trying to shock the Lasat and clone, they, for their part, began tossing any loose item they could find at the unit.

It was then, amid the chaos, that Hera entered the room.

“What is going on?” She hollered. 

Chopper instantly powered down the electrical bolts and snapped his arm back snuggly against its frame. Zeb dropped the tray he’d been holding, letting it clatter to the ground as he gaped at Hera. Rex gave a soft, slightly nervous chuckle. Kallus merely sat, holding his dish, wondering what to think of the pandemonium and uncertain how much of it was his fault.

Hera shook her head and let out a deep sigh. “Okay, I don’t need to know, just sit down. We have a mission to discuss, but…” She trailed off, gaze shifting to each of her crew members, “I expect you all to clean up this mess after we’re done here.”

“Mission?” Rex plopped down beside Kallus. “We going to Mandalor? It’s about time!”

“No,” Hera replied quickly, her tone flat. “We aren’t going to Mandalor.”

“What!” Zeb growled. “They need us to…”

Hera cut the Lasat off. “Calm down, Zeb. We are going to help Sabine, Ezra and Kanan, but we’re not going to Mandalor to do it.”

“Great,” Zeb muttered, taking a seat at the table, “another mission where we are all split up. Those always work out so well.”

“Compared to the mission we stick together?” Rex asked, brow raised, “because those don’t always seem to go as planned either.”

Zeb sighed. “Good point.”

“I’m not going to lie,” Hera said, “this isn’t going to be easy. The odds are against us, this is a desperate, rather insane plan that might not gain the Rebellion any advantage, but we’ve been asked to try.”

“So,” Rex replied, “just the usual then? You might as well fill us in on the details. It sounds like it will be fun.”

“Okay boys, here’s what we got coming…”

Leaning in, intent on soaking in everything Hera said, Kallus took careful mental notes. After all, this was his first mission as an official part of the Ghost crew, and he wasn’t about to let them down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading! I had this posted elsewhere, but I really wanted it up on this site. Sorry I didn't get it all up at once. I had wanted to, but the transfer over required a bit of editing and I didn't want a hot mess of words getting blobbed onto the page.


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